


show me the side streets in your life

by nirav



Series: side streets [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirav/pseuds/nirav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bike messenger!AU in which there are no aliens.</p><p>In which Alex is a hipster trash smartypants grad student who works as a bike messenger for extra cash, and Lucy is an overachieving smartypants in law school who keeps getting deliveries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> per the request of [smallandsundry](smallandsundry.tumblr.com), who wanted a bike messenger AU for these two. she also happened to draw [a truly excellent picture of the aforementioned hipster trash little shit bike messenger alex danvers](http://smallandsundry.tumblr.com/post/142489015590/also-have-a-hipster-bike-messenger-alex-danvers), which you should all go marvel at before you read this.

Lucy is halfway through rage-cleaning her apartment-- specifically, the underside of her kitchen table-- when the doorbell buzzes.  She pauses, blowing a lock of hair out of her face, and glares at it until it buzzes again.

Grumbling a curse under her breath, she dodges the piles of laundry and cleaning supplies scattered across the floor between her and the door and hits the intercom button just as the buzzer goes a third time.

“What?”

“Got a delivery.”

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Lucy Lane, apartment 612?”

“What-- I mean, that’s me, but--”

“Apparently somebody likes you,” the disembodied voice says.  “You wanna let me in?”

Lucy groans, dropping her forehead into the wall beside the buzzer and cursing the disaster that is her apartment.  After a moment, she hits the button to buzz in the delivery person.

Two minutes later, by the time there’s a knock on the door, she’s out of breath from having shoved all of the messy piles into the bedroom and tidied the coffee table.  She stops, pushes her hair out of her eyes, and takes a slow breath before opening the door.

“Are you Lucy?”

Oh, no, the delivery girl is hot.

“Yeah, I-- that’s me,” Lucy says.  She glances down to the patch sewn onto the dark polo shirt.  The delivery girl is _really_ hot, all short tousled dark hair and sharp jawline and sharper collarbones visible in the neckline of her shirt, and Lucy clears her throat.  “Alex.”

“Here you go.” Alex offers her a white cardboard box.

“What in the actual hell,” Lucy mutters.  She opens the top and looks in at the edible arrangement sitting inside, a card reading _I’m sorry.  Love, Dad_ propped in the plastic.  “Oh.”

She settles the box on the table by the door carefully and looks back up to where Alex is scribbling something on the receipt pad she’s produced from her bag.  The muscles in her arm flex and release as she writes, shifting under brightly colored tattoos, and Lucy digs her hands into her own thigh.  Alex offers the receipt pad to her.

“Signature, please.”

“Oh,” Lucy says.  “Right.”  She takes the pad and props it against the wall to sign, taking in the neat penmanship and the blocky 10:14 PM inked in the time slot.  “Isn’t it a little late for a messenger service?”

Alex shrugs.  “We work 24 hours, and I took the late shift.”

“Right,” Lucy says again.  “Do you want some fruit?”

“What?” It’s the first real expression Alex has offered, brow creasing in question, and Lucy shrugs and points at the box with her pen.

“Apology fruit bouquet, and I don’t like pineapple.  If you’re gonna be driving around all night, might as well have something to snack on.”

“Biking,” Alex says, accepting her receipt pad back and tearing Lucy’s copy off for her.  “So who screwed up?”

“What?”

Alex raises an eyebrow and points at the box.  “Apology bouquet?”

“Oh,” Lucy says.  She huffs out a sigh.  “Just my dad.  He’s being-- well.  My dad.” She flips the lid open and offers it to Alex, who extracts a plastic spear with a large chunk of pineapple on it.

“Thanks for the fruit, Lucy Lane,” Alex says, saluting her with the pineapple and heading back to the elevator.  Lucy mumbles out a goodbye and cranes her head out the doorway, watching Alex walk away and the way her calves flex with each step-- bike messenger indeed.

Alex glances back as she hits the button on the elevator, and Lucy jerks back inside and slams the door shut, but not before she hears an amused _“Real subtle,”_ from Alex.

“Dammit,” Lucy mumbles into the heavy wood of her door.

* * *

 

The second time it happens, it’s a delivery of three pounds of coffee beans from her sister, and Alex unabashedly looks Lucy-- just home from a run and having sweated through her t-shirt and the running tights that cling to her legs and, fortunately, make her ass look amazing-- up and down with a slow smile.

There’s no real conversation, but Alex winks gratuitously when Lucy offers the signed receipt back to her and lets her fingers slide over Lucy’s as she accepts the paper.

“Have a good one, Lucy Lane,” Alex says, and Lucy doesn’t even pretend that she isn’t watching Alex walk away.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Lucy is in the middle of studying for finals and the doorbell scares her so much she knocks her tea off the table and onto the floor.  The carpet.  The white carpet.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she mutters, scrambling for paper towels to clean it up.  Of course it was fruit tea.  Of course it was red.  Of course.

The doorbell goes again.

“Goddammit,” she grumbles.  She springs over to the door, hits the button to buzz them in, and runs back over to the somehow larger stain ruining her carpet.  There’s a knock on the door, and she half-shouts out an annoyed “It’s open” because _fuck_ she really does not want to lose the security deposit on this apartment.

“Do you need a hand?”

Lucy pauses, looking over her shoulder to where Hot Bike Messenger Alex is standing with cheeks red from the cold, head poked in the door and brow furrowed.

“Yes,” Lucy groans out.

Alex doesn’t say anything but lets herself into the apartment and shuts the door behind her.  She yanks a rag out of her bag and kneels down at Lucy’s side, soaking up tea as best she can.

“Thank you,” Lucy mumbles.  “I’m going to-- one sec--”  She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of carpet cleaner.  Alex dabs up the remaining liquid and sits back on her heels as Lucy sprays an abundance of carpet cleaner on the stain.

“I think your carpet will survive,” Alex says after a moment.

Lucy sighs and flops back to sit against the front of the couch.  “Fingers crossed.”  She pauses, looking over at Alex and tilting her head to one side.  “Hi.  Fancy meeting you here.”

“What can I say, I really enjoy clients staring at my ass when I walk away,” Alex says with a smirk, and Lucy flushes darkly.

“I wasn’t staring at you ass, I was staring at your--”  she cuts herself off with a groan, and Alex grins widely at her.

“Too easy,” Alex says.  She shifts to sit cross-legged and dumps her bag in her lap.  “So why are you hanging out alone on a Saturday night, throwing wine on the floor?”

“It was tea, not wine,” Lucy says.  “And I was studying.”

“What for?”

“Finals.  Grad school.”

“Oh yeah?”  Alex extracts a package from her bag and offers it to Lucy.  “What kind of grad school?”

“The worst kind,” Lucy says, tired and flustered and so, so sick of studying.  “Maybe I should just give up and be a bike messenger instead.”

Alex's eyebrows raise, and Lucy sighs.

“JD/MBA.  Worst decision of my life.”

“Impressive,” Alex says.  She fiddles with the strap on one of her gloves-- fingerless and bright blue cycling gloves that cinch loosely around delicate wrists and draw attention to wiry fingers with knuckles red from the cold-- as Lucy rips the package open and definitely does not ogle Alex’s hands.  “Don’t suppose there’s any pineapple in that one?”

Lucy skims through the papers and scoffs at them before tossing them on the floor.

“You know, someone paid a whole $28 to have those hand delivered by yours truly,” Alex says with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a contract,” Lucy says.  “For a job I don’t want.”

“Well, clearly someone wants you a lot,” Alex says  It’s Lucy’s turn to raise an eyebrow, and Alex clears her throat and tugs at the collar of her shirt.  “Not like--okay, whatever, walked into that one.”

Lucy smiles and shrugs.  “Not my fault.”  She pushes her way up to her feet and offers Alex a hand, pulling her up to stand and absolutely not holding onto her hand for longer than is strictly necessary.  “Thank you for your help.  Really.”

“Sure,” Alex says with a shrug.  She picks up the rag from the floor, holding it uncertainly.  “Can I--”

“Oh, sorry, here.”  Lucy grabs it from her and hurries into the kitchen, running water into the sink and soaking the rag.  Alex follows at a slower pace, hands tucked into her pockets, and leans against the column dividing the kitchen from the living room to watch.

The rag is stained, and Lucy frowns down at it.  “I don’t know if this is salvageable.  It might smell like fruit tea forever.”

“How ever will I go on,” Alex deadpans.  “No worries.  I’ve got a million of them.”  She hauls her bag back up across her back and tightens the strap; the movement dislodges her carefully-positioned beanie, and she tugs it back into place.

“Don’t you have to wear a helmet?”

“What?”

“A helmet,” Lucy says again.  “Biking around the city is dangerous, don’t you wear a helmet?”

Alex shrugs.  “I haven’t fallen off a bicycle since I was seven.”

“Seriously?” Lucy says, gesturing wildly.  “What about cars?”

“If I get hit by a car, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die anyways.”

“That-- what?”

“C’est la vie, right?” Alex says.  She waves lazily.  “Have a good one, Lucy Lane.”

“Bye,” Lucy says, staring dumbly as Alex leaves her apartment.  As the door shuts, Lucy snaps out of it and sprints into her bedroom, shoving her feet into shoes and tying her hair back, and then grabs her keys on the way out the door.

Alex is still waiting for the elevator, engrossed in her phone, when Lucy stops at her side with her coat in hand.

“Are you following me?”

“No,” Lucy lies.  “I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner.”

“Can’t study on an empty stomach, can you,” Alex says.  The elevator dings open, and she tilts her head towards it, motioning Lucy in first.

“Definitely not,” Lucy says.  “So are you on the late shift again?  Working all night?”

“Nah.”  Alex tucks her phone into her back pocket.  “You’re the end of my day.”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Lucy blurts out.  “I mean-- I’m going anyways, do you want to come with me?”

Alex looks her up and down, one side of her mouth hitching up into a smirk.  “Sure,” she says after a moment.  “Where are we going?”

“Chinese?”

“Chinese works for me,” Alex says.  The elevator opens, and she once again motions Lucy through first.

Outside, Alex unlocks her bike and loops the chain lock over her shoulder, manhandling the bike around to face the street.  “Lead the way,” she says.

Lucy gestures to the left, and Alex starts wheeling the bike down the sidewalk.  Neither of them say anything, and Lucy bites down on her lip, fingers drumming against her thigh.

“So how did you end up a bike messenger?”

Alex shrugs.  “I rode everywhere in college, and I know the area, so when my friend needs someone to cover shifts or I need some extra cash, I make a run for them.  It’s easy money.”

“Right,” Lucy says.  “And you don’t wear a helmet.  Like an idiot.”

“Like someone who knows how to ride a bike,” Alex counters.

“Or an idiot,” Lucy says again.  “We’re here.”

Alex stops abruptly, brow furrowed; they’ve only walked to the end of the block.  Lucy gestures at the sign above them, faded Mandarin characters backlit by flickering neon.

“Could’ve just left the bike back at your building, you know,” Alex grumbles.  She cranes her neck around, locating a nearby lamppost, and wheels the bike over to lock it up.

“Surprises are more fun,” Lucy says.  She holds the door open for Alex, half bowing as she gestures her through.   They settle at a table and a waiter appears, speaking in rapid Mandarin.  Lucy responds easily, smiling at him and occasionally gesturing at Alex, who blinks rapidly and eventually busies herself with her phone once more while they talk.

“So you speak Chinese?” Alex asks once the waiter has hurried off.

“I spent some time there in high school,” Lucy says with a shrug.  “I come here a lot, to make sure I don’t forget how to speak, and their food is amazing.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Alex says.  She settles her phone on the table and leans back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.  “So what other surprises do you have hidden up your sleeve?”

“Not so much,” Lucy says.  She taps her fingers on the table.  “Pretty boring, really.”

Alex’s phone dings, and she glances down at it, not moving.

“Go for it,” Lucy says.  “I’m not some fussy parent who’s going to get pissy if you respond to a text.”

Alex laughs, short and quiet, and picks up her phone, thumbs speeding over the keyboard momentarily before she sets it back down.

“I _am_ gonna ask who you’re texting, though.  Boyfriend?  Girlfriend?  Estranged lover on the lam from the cops?”

“Sister,” Alex says with another laugh.  “She’s having an interpersonal work crisis.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It means she works for a demon lady and needs to quit and get a job with normal people.”

It draws a laugh out of Lucy, who finally relaxes and sits back in her chair.  “How old is she?”

“24 year old human disaster,” Alex says, but her wide smile contradicts her words.

“You’re proud of her,” Lucy says, and Alex shrugs.

“She’s pretty great, it’s true.”  She tugs at her hat.  “What about you?  Any siblings?”

“One older sister,” Lucy says with an eye roll.  “Total overachiever.”

“Yeah, we’re the worst,” Alex says with a straight face.

“She won a Pulitzer last year,” Lucy says.  “My mother still hasn’t shut up about it.  Makes it downright impossible to ever be considered the successful one.”

“Right,” Alex says.  “Because getting a joint law-MBA degree from _Harvard_ is a total failure.”

“How did you--”

“How many schools in Boston do you think actually offer that?”  Alex scoffs at her.

“Right,” Lucy says, clearing her throat.  “Good point.”

The waiter reappears, unloading a tray of food onto the table.  Alex’s eyebrows climb higher and higher as more and more food is settled in front of them.

“Are we feeding an army?”

“I may have forgotten to eat lunch, too,” Lucy says.  She tosses a set of chopsticks over to Alex.  “So, are you from around here?”

Alex twirls her chopsticks absently before extracting a dumpling from one of the plates.  “Illinois.  Outside of Chicago.  You?”

“Army brat,” Lucy says.  “Honolulu, Stuttgart, Augusta, finally landed in DC when I was in high school.”

“Sounds exhausting.”  Alex reaches across the table and confiscates the plate of dumplings in front of Lucy.  “I didn’t move until I went to college.  My folks were less than pleased that I didn’t stay at home for school.”

“Where’d you go?”

Alex gestures vaguely into the air.  “Here,” she says, shoving a dumpling in her mouth.

“Oh?”

“Yep.”

“Where did you go?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lucy raises an eyebrow at her, setting her chopsticks down and propping her chin in her hand.  “Tufts,” she says after a few seconds of squinting at Alex.

“Strike one,” Alex says.  She trades the dumplings for the fried rice Lucy had been eating.

“Harvard?”

Alex snorts.  “God no.”  She grimaces at the fried rice and abandons it, switching for the potstickers.

“What, not hipster enough for your tattoos and beanies and fixie?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.  Also, too many pretentious preppy girls.”

Lucy gasps dramatically and throws a balled up napkin at Alex, who throws it right back at her.  

“Two strikes, Harvard,” Alex says.  “Choose wisely.”

“Boston College?”

“And that’s three.  Better luck next time.”  Alex snaps her fingers into a gun and points it at Lucy.

“Okay, just tell me.”

“Nah.”

“Come on,” Lucy whines.

“Nope.”

“Tell me, or I’m not sharing any more of the dumplings,” Lucy says, glaring across the table.

“That’s a low blow, Lane.”

Lucy pauses, her brow furrowing.  “What’s your last name?”

“What?”

“You know mine,” Lucy says.  “What’s yours?”

“Danvers,” Alex says with a shrug.  “Give me the dumplings.”

“Alex Danvers,” Lucy says.  She shovels half of the dumplings onto her plate and hands the platter over. Pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket, she taps away at it for a moment.  Alex glares at the dumplings on Lucy’s plate, and Lucy looks up from her phone abruptly.  “MIT?  You went to MIT?”

“Go,” Alex says, taking a long sip of water.

“Huh?”

“I go to MIT.  Still.”  It doesn’t seem to click, and Alex sighs.  “You think you’re the only one in grad school?”

“Oh,” Lucy says.  “Oh.  I thought--”

“What, that I’m just a lifelong bike messenger?”  One side of her mouth hitches up into a smirk.  “I told you, I do this for extra cash or to help out the shop when they’re short staffed.”

“Right,” Lucy says.  She clears her throat.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“I guess you’re just going to have to buy me dinner, then,” Alex says.  “To make up for it.”

“What are you studying?”

“Science,” Alex says vaguely.  Lucy rolls her eyes and reaches across the table, grabbing Alex’s wrist and tugging until her arm is extended.  “Hey--”

“This is DNA, and…circuits?” Lucy says over her, fingers sliding along the patterns that cover the inside of Alex’s forearm.  She looks back up to Alex’s eyes, brow furrowed.  “Cognitive science?”

“Not exactly.”  Alex’s voice comes out a little bit tighter, and Lucy smiles wider, keeping ahold of her arm and tracing her fingers along the lines of the tattoo.  She leans forward and bows her head closer to the tattoo, and Alex twitches when Lucy’s breath hits her skin.  Circuits and code curve around her forearm and Lucy follows the pattern, rotating Alex’s arm until she can see the other side, following clean digital lines and curling double helixes.  Lucy squints at the tattoo, frowning, and looks back up to Alex.

“So are you going to tell me?” Lucy asks, scraping her fingernails gently along the inside of Alex’s arm again and smirking when Alex’s breath hitches audibly.

“Biological engineering,” Alex mumbles.

“Sounds fancy.”  Lucy skims her thumb along the inside of Alex’s wrist briefly and then releases her arm, settling back on her side of the table.  “You alright over there?”

Alex clears her throat and shifts in her seat, and Lucy smiles, smug and confident.

“All good,” Alex says.

“You sure?”

Alex kicks at her shin under the table and takes a long drink from her glass of water.  Her phone dings again and she grabs at it gratefully.  Her discomfort shifts to visible concern as she responds to a text message, and Lucy abandons her food.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just-- sister,” Alex says, not looking up from her phone.  “Sorry, Kara got in fight with my mom.”

“You need to go?”

“No, I--” Alex sighs.  “Yeah, sorry, I should give her a call.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says.  She pulls some cash out of her pocket and settles it on the table, calling out to the waiter in Chinese and waving goodbye; Alex doesn’t look up from her phone as they walk out of the restaurant.  Lucy stays quiet, hands in her pockets, as Alex unlocks her bike and finally pauses, turning back to Lucy.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says.  “Sorry to bail, I guess.”

“It’s cool,” Lucy says.  She steps closer, keeping her hands securely in her pockets.  “So maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Perhaps,” Alex drawls.  She pulls a set of headphones out of her pocket and snaps them into her phone, putting one earbud in and letting the other hang down.  “Maybe I’ll stop by sometime.  Since I know where you live and all that.”

“Or you could give me your number,” Lucy says.

“I mean, I could,” Alex says with a shrug.  “But where does that get fun?”  She steps forward and ducks her head down, pressing a kiss to Lucy’s cheek and lingering momentarily, before she hops back and onto her bike.

“See you ‘round, Harvard,” she says with a grin.  Lucy blinks, not moving, as Alex pedals away.

“Oh, boy,” she mumbles, huffing out a heavy breath.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a week, and Lucy hasn’t seen Alex at all.  Finals are over, she’s had a requisite night of drinking too much with her law school classmates, and then another with her MBA classmates, and then a day of sleeping in and sulking through her hangover, and she still hasn’t seen Alex since flirting over Chinese food and Alex disappearing after dropping an obnoxiously pleasant kiss on Lucy’s cheek.

A week.

She’s not mired down with finals-- which Lucy knows, because she stalked through MIT’s websites until she found a posting of exam schedules-- and she’s the one with the means to reach out, what with her having Lucy’s address and Lucy having nothing except for a crush and delivery receipts with a company name and phone number that rings through to voicemail nonstop.  It’s started to snow, the northeastern winter coming late but angry, and Lucy buys herself a bottle of tequila on the way home from the gym and settles in for a night of margaritas and catching up on _House of Cards_.

It’s just after nine when the doorbell buzzes, and she’s half asleep, slumped on the couch after half of one margarita and an entire semester’s worth of exhaustion.

“What?” She mumbles into the intercom, rubbing at her eyes.

“Uh, hi.”

Lucy’s eyes snap open wide and she shakes her head, dislodging her margita-induced haze.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”  There’s a pause.  “You busy?”

Lucy presses at the button to answer immediately, but then hesitates.  “Maybe.”

“Right,” Alex says.  “Makes sense.  Sorry about that.”

“Wait,” Lucy rushes out.  “I’m not-- come on up.”  She stabs at the button to buzz Alex in and then sprints to the bathroom to wash her face and fix her hair.  By the time there’s a knock on the door, she’s presentable and has wiped up the coffee table to hide the few remaining crumbs for her gourmet dinner of takeout sushi and dumped the remains of her margarita in the sink.

Lucy opens the door and Alex stands there with her hands in her pockets.  She doesn’t have her messenger bag and isn’t wearing her cycling gloves for once, and an actually warm-looking hat, instead of a uselessly cute beanie, is tugged down snugly over her hair.

“Hi,” Lucy says.

“Hey,” Alex echoes.  “Sorry to come by so late.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says, and immediately berates herself.  “I mean-- why are you coming by?”

“I just got back in town,” Alex says.  “A family thing came up, and I had to sit for my comps early and then head out and--”

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, leaning forward in spite of herself.

“Yeah,” Alex says with a smile.  She gestures to Lucy’s apartment.  “Can I…?”

“What?  Oh, yeah, of course,” Lucy says, stepping back to allow her in.  “I-- do you want some coffee or something?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that would be great,” Alex says.  She unzips her coat and points at the row of hooks in the wall by the door.  Lucy waves a hand at them with a nod and shuffles into the kitchen while Alex hangs her coat and blows on her hands.

“How cold is it out there?”

“About three degrees south of cold as balls,” Alex mutters.  She falls silent as Lucy goes through the motions of making coffee, the coffeemaker gurgling to life loudly, and shoves her hands into her back pockets.  “I just wanted to-- apologize, I guess, for disappearing.”

“You had a family emergency,” Lucy says.  “I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for ghosting me.”

“I didn’t _ghost_ you,” Alex says, shoulders slumping.  “I just didn’t think that I would have to fly out to Los Angeles, like, almost immediately.”

“Los Angeles?”

“My sister lives there,” Alex says.  She leans carefully against the column separating Lucy’s kitchen from her living room.  “She had-- a thing.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good now.”  Alex tugs at her scarf, shrugging.  “She just needed some backup.”

“Is this about the fight she had with your mom?”

“Kind of,” Alex says.  “It’s complicated.”

“Right,” Lucy says, hopping up to sit on the counter and looking down at her knees.

“I’m not blowing you off,” Alex says.  She sighs.  “It’s just...actually complicated.  Because my parents adopted Kara when she was thirteen, and there’s a lot of baggage.”

“Oh,” Lucy says, faint and quiet.  “Oh.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“I know.”  Alex offers a small smile and shrugs once more.  “Like I said, it’s complicated.  But I didn’t mean to blow you off, which isn’t complicated, so I thought I’d let you know.”

“Right,” Lucy says again.  She internally curses her weakness for Alex’s smile.  “So you just got back?”

“Yeah, this afternoon.”

“Just think how easy it would have been to call or text me to tell me you were disappearing,” Lucy says.  “Oh, wait, no, can’t do that because _someone_ thought she was being all cool and suave with her whole ‘I know where to find you’ nonsense.”

Alex huffs out a sigh and rolls her eyes skyward.  “Yeah, yeah, okay,” she says, but she’s smiling, and Lucy’s mouth goes a little bit dry.  The coffee is done, and she slides off the counter, busying herself with fetching mugs and pouring coffee.

“Milk?”

“Please.”

“So,” Lucy says, handing Alex the coffee.  “Now what?”

“What?”

“You’re done with finals for the semester, right?  Going home for the holidays?”

“Oh, Alex says, taking a cautious sip of the coffee.  “In a few days.  I’m gonna pick up some shifts at the shop before I do.”

“Okay, so, question,” Lucy says.  She curls her hands around her coffee mug. “Because I’m nosy.  You’re a PhD student, so obviously you get a research stipend.  So why are you also working as a bike messenger?”

Alex shrugs.  “Well, you know, I considered counting cards at the casinos for money, but that just seemed unnecessarily dangerous--”

Lucy kicks out at her shin, rolling her eyes, and Alex grins as she dodges it.

“Road trip with Kara,” she says.  “We were going to go in college but it never worked out, so now we’re going to go after I finish my PhD.”

“Road trip where?”

“According to Kara, we have to start in Vancouver, go all the way down to San Diego, through the Rockies, down to Florida, and then wind up here.”

“Wow,” Lucy says, eyebrows high.  “That’s one hell of a trip.”

“Yep.”  Alex swallows the rest of her coffee. “You wanna go get a drink?”

“Now?”

“I mean, yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but some other time if you want, I guess.”

“Oh,” Lucy says.  “Yeah, okay.  I just need-- give me a few minutes to change.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Alex says with a shrug.  Lucy rolls her eyes and gestures to the couch as she disappears into the bedroom.

She emerges later, tying her hair back, to find Alex not on the couch but instead crouched in front of one of the bookshelves with her jacket in hand, head tilted to the side as she reads the titles on the lower shelves.

“Do you ever read anything fun?” Alex says without looking up.  “Law, economics, history...don’t you like fiction?”

“I’m a bit behind on Oprah’s book club,” Lucy says, sitting down on the couch to zip up her boots.  “Actually, I’m a bit behind on everything that isn’t reading for school at this point.”

Alex pushes herself back up to standing and shrugs into her jacket.  She tilts her head back the other way, wincing as it cracks, and watches quietly as Lucy finishes putting on her boots and hops up from the couch.

“Lead the way,” Lucy says with a smile.

“Roger that, Harvard.”  Alex salutes her comically and heads to door, swinging it open and gesturing Lucy through.

“So,” Lucy says in the elevator.  “Where are we going?”

“Depends,” Alex says from her spot leaning against the wall.

“On what?”

“On if a classy Harvard girl like yourself can lower herself to going to a hipster dive bar.”

“I think I can handle it,” Lucy says.

“Let’s find out.”

* * *

 

The bar is, in fact, both hipster and dive, and Lucy scans the room with a raised eyebrow.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says.

“I like to live up to my stereotype,” Alex says with a shrug.  She gestures to a high top near the pool table.  “What can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” Lucy says.  She tugs at Alex’s coat.  “Give me that, it’s hot in here.”

Alex inhales sharply for a brief moment, but recovers and unzips the jacket, sliding it off and handing it to Lucy.  Lucy’s fingernails scrape against Alex’s hand as she takes the jacket, and she smirks at Alex before pirouetting around and heading to the table.

From her seat, Lucy props her chin in her hand and watches as Alex leans against the bar, sweater sleeves shoved up to expose her tattoos.  At this distance she can follow the strong line from Alex’s shoulders down to where the hem of her sweater hitches on her belt, past the outline of the phone in her back pocket, to the sharp lines of muscle pushing against the material of her jeans.

“Oh boy,” Lucy mumbles, taking a deep breath and shifting back into her seat, averting her gaze down to her phone as Alex turns from the bar, drinks in hand.

“Wasn’t sure what your beer preferences were,” Alex says as she slides into the other chair.  She settles a dark beer in front of Lucy.

“What’d you get?” Lucy motions to the tumbler in front of Alex as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Whiskey,” Alex says. “You want some?”

“I can’t say it’s my favorite,” Lucy says with a shake of her head.  Alex smirks behind her glass, and Lucy pauses.  “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Alex says.  “You do seem more like a tequila sunrise kinda girl, is all.”

“Is that so?”  Lucy sets her beer back down and hops delicately back down from her chair.  She moves to Alex’s side and leans in close, lips brushing against Alex’s ear.  “I’ll be right back.”

At the bar, she flags the bartender down with her credit card and points to an unopened bottle of Glenfiddich.  “Can I buy that?”

“The whole thing?”

“Yep, the whole thing.”  She smiles brightly at his impressed nod and hands over her card.  “Couple of glasses, too, please.”

“You’re with Alex, yeah?”

“I don’t know if I’d put it that way, precisely,” Lucy says, tucking a loose piece of hair back.

“She can hold her own,” he says.  “Just as a heads up.  The girl likes her whiskey.”

Lucy shrugs and scrawls her signature on the receipt.  “So can I.”

She carries the bottle and glasses back over to the table and plops them down with a heavy thunk in front of Alex.

“What--”

“It’s scotch,” Lucy says.  “You may have tried it before.”  She twists the lid off and pours into the glasses, pushing one over to Alex.  She picks up her own glass and clinks it against Alex’s before swallowing all of the scotch in one go and settling the glass back down delicately.

“Let’s go,” she says, motioning to Alex’s untouched glass.  Alex stares at her for a few seconds, mouth half open, before smiling and nodding and throwing back her own drink.

“Here we go, then,” she says.

* * *

Midnight rolls around, and a third of the bottle remains.  The crowd at the bar has thinned out, the student population mostly gone home for the holidays, and Alex and Lucy have laid claim to the pool table.  Alex is lining up a shot, brow furrowed as she stares down the line of the cue, and Lucy leans against the wall behind her, unabashedly staring at the skin visible above her belt where her shirt and sweater have ridden up.

“So do all bike messengers have legs as nice as yours?” Lucy says just as Alex shoots.  Alex’s elbow jerks up at her words and the cue skids off the cue ball, shooting wide and ricocheting off the ten and into a pocket.

“Seriously?” Alex mutters, turning around to glare at Lucy.

“It’s not my fault you crack under pressure,” Lucy says, sliding her free hand along Alex’s hip as she walks by to reclaim the cue ball.  She drops it on the table and lines up, easily pocketing the eight.  “So that’s four each, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex grumbles.  She digs another dollar out of her pocket and feeds it into the table.

“Hey, ladies,” someone says, and Alex raises an eyebrow at the two men standing on the other side of the table.  “Fancy a game of doubles?”

“We’re good,” Lucy says.

“Come on,” the other one says.  “One game?”

“Nope,” Alex says.  She stabs at the button on the table and the balls rattle down into the keep.

“What if we pay for the next round?”

“We’re set on the drinks front,”  Alex says, not looking at them as she moves the balls up onto the table.  “If you want the next game, there’s the board.  Run along now.”

“Hey--”

“Alright, one game,” Lucy says, moving to Alex’s side and curling a hand around her wrist.  “Winners stay, losers go home?”

“Lucy,” Alex says quietly.  “We don’t have to--”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says with a squeeze.  “We’ll win, don’t worry.”

One of the men racks up the balls quickly, and the other turns to them.  “Do you want to break?  Ladies first and all.”

“You go ahead,” Lucy says with a wide smile.  “I’m pretty terrible at breaking.”

Alex grips tighter to her pool cue, knuckles creaking, as both of the men smirk and one of them lines up for the break.  Two stripes drop, and he pockets a third before missing.

Lucy waves Alex forward to shoot, watching as she drops a solid and then rattles a second out of the corner pocket.

“I hope you have some trick up your sleeve,” Alex mutters to Lucy as two more stripes fall. Lucy pushes up on her toes, her chest flush against Alex’s arm, and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Trust me,” she whispers in Alex’s ear before throwing back the rest of her drink and turning to the table.

Alex’s grimace fades into a growing smile as Lucy drops a ball, and then another one, and another.  She looks over to their opponents, both of whom are looking with wide eyes, and Lucy pockets the last solids.

Lucy pauses, chalking the cue.  “Eight in the side.”  She neatly slots the eight into the pocket and settles her cue on the table.  “Thanks for the game, guys.  Have a good night.”

Alex stares at her, jaw slack, as she flutters a wave to shoo them away and half-skips back over to Alex.

“Told you to trust me,” Lucy says.

“What-- where did you learn how to play like that?  Why were you going easy on me the entire night?”

“I grew up with a pool table,” Lucy says with a shrug.  “And I don’t care about winning against you, because you’re not a dick.”

“Right,” Alex says slowly.  She accepts the refreshed glass of scotch from Lucy.  “Is that where you learned to drink, too?”

“Negative,” Lucy says, stretching.  Alex’s gaze flits down to her chest, and Lucy smirks.  “Learned that in Iraq.”

“In--what?  What were you doing in  _ Iraq _ ?”

“Two tours with the Army,” Lucy says.  She tugs at the neckline of her shirt and extracts the dog tags hanging around her neck.

“You’re military?” Alex says slowly, stepping closer to hold the dog tags and squint at them.  “Captain?  You’re  _ really _ military.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lucy says, saluting sloppily.

“What,” Alex starts, the unfinished question hanging in the air between them as she continues to look back and forth between Lucy and the dog tags she’s still holding onto.  “Two tours?”

“Fourteen months, two weeks, six days,” Lucy says.  Her fingers slide along Alex’s, gently reclaiming the dog tags with one hand while the other stays wrapped around Alex’s.

“Oh,” Alex says faintly.  “Oh.”

Lucy clears her throat, letting go of Alex’s hand and stepping back, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“If you want to ask,” she says after a moment.  “Go ahead.”

“What?”  Alex shakes her head and pushes a hand through her hair.  “Ask what?”

“If I ever killed anyone, if I saw anyone die, do the Iraqi people really hate us, how I could support a war like this, if--”

Alex steps forward, a little bit rushed and a little bit clumsy, and kisses Lucy.  Her hands press against Lucy’s cheeks, gentle in spite of the callouses, and Lucy pushes up on her toes, arms curling around Alex’s hips.

The bartender walks by, flicking a towel at the back of Alex’s head.  “Keep it PG-13, kids,” he says.  “Also, you gotta clear out, we’re closing up early.”

Alex pulls back just enough to glare at him, still holding onto Lucy.  “It’s not last call yet!”

“Tonight it is,” he says.  “We’re closing for the holidays starting tomorrow, you’re the only ones left here, and I also have a hot girl I want to go home to.  So clear out, Danvers.”

“Fine,” Alex mumbles.  “You’re a dick, Johnny.”

Lucy pinches at her hip.  “Be nice,” she says.  She pulls away from Alex, picking up their jackets from the table.  “Have a good Christmas!”

Johnny smiles at her and waves, disappearing back to the bar as Alex zips up her jacket.  Lucy pulls Alex’s hat and scarf out of her jacket pocket and wraps the scarf around Alex’s neck, holding on to it for a moment longer than is necessary and popping up on her toes to kiss Alex as she does.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” she says with a smile as she tugs Alex’s hat down over her own hair.  She loops her arm through Alex’s and heads for the door, tugging her along.

“So,” Alex says after two blocks of walking in easy silence, clearing her throat.  “Sorry about that, I shouldn’t have--”

“Are you seriously about to drunk apologize to me for drunk kissing me?”

“Well, not when you put it that way,” Alex says.  Lucy hipchecks her with a laugh.

“Don’t apologize,” Lucy says.  She slows to a stop, pulling Alex around to face her, and brushes snowflakes out of her hair.  “Unless you’re planning on not giving me your phone number again.”

Alex shrugs, even as she smiles down at Lucy, and clicks her tongue behind her teeth.  “I dunno,” she says.  “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy or something.”

Lucy rolls her eyes and pulls on Alex’s scarf until Alex takes a step forward and presses up against Lucy.

“Okay then,” Lucy says, licking her lips.  “If you’re sure you want to play it like that, then I suppose I’ll just wait around until January when we’re both back in town for sure after the holidays and--”

“I take it back,” Alex says quickly.  “Definitely do not want that.”

“Oh, really?”  Lucy pops forward and presses a wet kiss to Alex’s cheekbone, and then spins back around and starts down the sidewalk again.

“Tease,” Alex mumbles.

“So,” Lucy says.  “Where’s your place?  I did say I’d walk you home.”

“A block back that way.”  Alex jerks her head back towards the way they just came.

“Seriously?”

Alex shrugs and dodges Lucy’s elbows, laughing.  “Sorry, sorry, I was just having a good time.”

“Well, I  _ am _ a delight,” Lucy says.  She pulls Alex around and sets back down the sidewalk.

“You’re leaving for the holidays, then?” Alex says.  She slows to a stop at the corner and nods her head towards the door behind her.  “This is me.”

“Taking the train out tomorrow night,” Lucy says.  “What about you?”

“Day after,” Alex says.  She tilts her head towards the door again.  “You could stay, if you want.”

“And here I was, thinking you weren’t easy,” Lucy says.  “Whatever happened to chivalry and propriety?”  Her words slur together, half from exhaustion and half from the whiskey. She pokes a finger into Alex’s sternum, the blow padded by her scarf and jacket, and Alex moves abruptly, turning them and walking Lucy back into the door to her building.

“Chivalry is pretty overrated,” Alex says, hands pressed into the door on either side of Lucy’s head.  She holds herself a scant few inches back from Lucy, one side of her mouth quirking up.  “But if that’s what you want--”

“Shut up,” Lucy mumbles, dragging her forward by the jacket and kissing her again.

* * *

Alex’s apartment is a disaster of an open floor plan, an unsurprising clutter of molecular models and scientific journals with a giant whiteboard bolted into the wall opposite her bed.  Lucy lays tiredly across the bed, her feet up near where the pillows normally would be and chin propped on her crossed arms, staring at the board as her breathing and heartbeat slow back down.

She murmurs incoherently, eyes slipping shut, as Alex kisses along her spine, up between her shoulder blades, and eventually sprawls on top of her.

“How is your whiteboard handwriting so much worse than your actual handwriting?” Lucy says.  “How can you even read any of that?”  She groans when Alex folds her arms across Lucy’s shoulders, resting her chin on them, the pressure pulling comfortably at the tight muscles in her back.

“Years of practice,” Alex says.  “I have a limited range of proficiencies with my hands and I figured there were more effective things I could do with them besides whiteboard calligraphy.”

Lucy cranes her head back around to level a stare at her.

“You are  _ such _ a nerd,” she says.  “I can’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

“And yet, here we are,” Alex says.

“Yep.”  Lucy pushes her elbows under her and shoves up, enough to dislodge Alex and topple her onto the mattress.  She huffs indignantly, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Rude, Harvard,” she says and swats lazily at Lucy’s shoulder.

“Psh,” Lucy says.  She rolls off the bed and to her feet.  “Do you have any water glasses in your hipster apartment?”

“No, I drink directly from the hose out back, the water tastes more authentic that way,” Alex says.  She points to a cabinet before letting her arm flop back down onto the bed.  Her eyes follow Lucy as she retrieves a glass and fills it from the sink.  Outside, the sky is lightening slowly into an overcast winter morning.

“What about food?” Lucy says, sitting back down on the bed next to Alex and handing her a glass of water.

Alex waves a hand lazily back towards the kitchen.  “Help yourself to whatever,” she says.  “I’m just gonna--be right here.  For a few minutes.”  She finishes the water and flops back down on the bed.

“Don’t tell me I wore you out,” Lucy says.

Alex opens one eye and  _ pffts _ quietly.  “I’m the one who was fu--”

Lucy swoops in and bites down on her ear, cutting Alex off.  “Whatever you say,” she says into Alex’s ear before bouncing off the bed and back across the apartment to the kitchen.

Alex grumbles and grabs for the dislodged blankets, the winter chill cutting through the sweat cooling on her body.  There’s a clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, and she opens her eyes long enough to see Lucy wearing Alex’s sweater from the night before and making omelettes.

It’s a little too easy, a day before they’re both leaving for the holidays, but Alex curls up under the blanket and watches with a small smile.


	4. Chapter 4

_ So now i have your number _

_ So you do _

_ And all i had to do was go home with you and bend you over a table _

Alex drops her phone and it clatters down down onto the floor at the bike shop.

“Are you serious,” she grumbles.  There’s another text waiting for her when she picks it up, a picture of Lucy’s collarbone and the dark bruise flourishing above it, visible past the collar of her shirt.

_ We’re going to talk about this when i get back _

_ You started it, don’t blame me _

_ Don’t think my dad’s gonna care _

_ You’re an adult.  What’s he going to do? _

_ Did i mention that he’s a general and has an entire battalion of soldiers at his disposal _

Alex drops her phone again.  “Fuck.”

* * *

_ How’s your christmas? _

_ My sister’s editor called her and told her to fly to Panama tonight so it’s been nuts _

_ What’s in Panama?” _

_ Apparently a coup he wants her to cover.  Mom’s proud, dad wants to send a spec ops squad with her.  How’s yours? _

_ Family drama.  My mom and kara are still at odds _

_ Everything okay? _

_ It’ll be fine, they just need to sort their shit out. And them fighting means no one cared that i showed up with like sixteen hickeys because SOMEONE got carried away _

_ Who would do that, she sounds like a fun time _

Lucy laughs, loud and unexpected, when the next text is a picture of Alex glaring at her.  She flushes when her mother pokes her head into the study to see what she’s laughing at, and she scrambles to lock her phone.

“It’s nothing!”

* * *

_ When are you heading back to boston? _

_ Friday morning.  You? _

_ Wednesday.  I have a couple of job interviews. _

_ I thought people just threw job offers at you via charming bike messenger _

_ You’re not funny, you know that? _

_ In that case I won’t ask if you want to have dinner at my place friday night then _

_ You don’t have to be funny for that, just hot.  Lucky for you you’ve got that covered _

_ Yay me _

_ I’ll come by around seven?  Do i need to bring anything? _

_ Dessert _

* * *

Alex’s flight out of Chicago is two hours late and she misses her connection, dropping her in Boston at 4:45 in the afternoon.  She glares at the clock on her phone from her spot in the back of a taxi before sighing and unlocking it to text Lucy.

_ Major flight delays, I just landed.  How much will you judge me if i order takeout for dinner _

_ On a scale of 1 to 10 probably 6 _

_ I can roll with that _

She makes it home with barely enough time to shower and call in an order, and is still toweling her hair dry when there’s a knock on her door.  

“Hey,” Lucy says, looking Alex and her sweatpants and t-shirt up and down, and then at the gray business suit she’s wearing under her coat.  “Well, now I feel overdressed.”  

“You could have just said that your interview was in the afternoon and we could have done this later, you know.”  Alex steps back to let her in, shutting the door behind her and biting down on her lip as she takes in Lucy’s suit.  “Not that I’m complaining.  This is a good look on you.”

“Oh, really?”  Lucy shrugs out of her coat.  She reaches past Alex’s shoulder to hang it on the coat rack.  “Good to know.”  She keeps her hand pressed into the wall behind Alex’s shoulder, her heels granting her a height advantage, and leans forward.

“Hey,” Alex says.  She pulls on the lapel of Lucy’s jacket.

“Hi,” Lucy says, letting Alex pull her closer.  “When’s the food getting here?”

“At least an hour.”

“Great.”  Lucy surges the rest of the way forward and kisses Alex, the force pushing her back into the wall.  “Because when I was looking in your bedside table last time I saw some things I want to try.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Stop studying,” Lucy mumbles into the pillow, huffing at the fact that Alex is sitting up and has a laptop on her legs.  Alex squints at the laptop and pushes gently at Lucy’s messy hair without looking away from the data on her computer.  Lucy grumbles and rolls over, her forehead pressing against Alex’s hip.

“Go back to sleep,” Alex says.

“And what, let you eat all the chocolate?”  Lucy says with a sigh as she sits up as well, tugging at the sheet to cover her bare skin.  “I’ve known you too long for that, Danvers.  Share.”

Alex looks away from her laptop long enough to offer Lucy a grin and a chocolate egg.

“I still can’t believe your professor gave you Easter candy,” Lucy says with another huff.  She rips the foil off and balls it up, throwing it at Alex.  It bounces off Alex’s temple and down onto her keyboard.  “You know what I got from my professors?  Lectures.  ‘Accept an offer, Lucy!  Go work with my golf buddy, Lucy!’”

“Your life is such a tragedy,” Alex deadpans. She saves her work and shuts the laptop, settling it on the bedside table.  “I ordered breakfast.”

“Seriously?” Lucy elbows her.  “I could have made something.”

“But you were doing that cute snoring thing you do--”

A knock sounds on the door, and Lucy shoves at Alex until she half-falls out of the bed.

“Saved by the bell,” Alex says with a laugh as she pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

“I would have just made--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex says, pulling open the door.  An excited squeal sounds on the other side, followed by a “ _ Happy birthday! _ ” and a blonde blur tackles Alex with a hug, the force of it knocking her back into the apartment.

“Kara?” Alex wheezes out even as she returns the hug.  “What are you--”

“I got a Christmas bonus and of course I wanted to use it to surprise you for your birthday, Jeremiah and Eliza are coming in later so we can all-- oh my God!”  A hand claps over her mouth as she catches sight of Lucy, who’s still in the bed and pulling the sheet more tightly over her chest.

“Uh, Kara,” Alex says, tapping at her back.  “Can you--” She extracts herself from Kara’s hug and clears her throat.  “And this is Lucy.”

“Hi,” Lucy says.  “I’m just going to-- go, I guess.  In a sec.”

“Oh my God,” Kara says again.  “No, no, no, I’m so sorry, I had no idea-- I’ll go!”

“No, don’t do that,” Lucy says with a smile.  “It’s cool, you two should hang out.  Especially on Alex’s birthday.”

“Right,” Alex says slowly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!” Kara says, jabbing a finger into Alex’s sternum.

“Ow!”  Alex swats at her arm.  “And I didn’t--I don’t know, I didn’t hide anything from you, I just--”

“It’s still new,” Lucy supplies as she manages to dress under the covers.  She pops out from the bed, fully clothed, and moves to shake Kara’s hand.  “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Kara says with a glare at Alex, who throws her hands in the air.

“I would have told you,” she mutters.  Lucy raises an eyebrow and Alex clears her throat loudly.  “Anyways!”

“Right,” Lucy says with a smile.  She moves back to the bed to grab her scattered shoes and scarf, pulling them on.  “Alex ordered breakfast, so it should be here soon, so I’ll leave you guys to it.”  She picks her coat up from Alex’s desk chair and shrugs into it, pausing at Alex’s side and kissing her on the cheek.  “Call me later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex mumbles, her cheeks flushing bright red.

“Kara, it was nice to meet you,” Lucy says, shaking Kara’s hand once more, and then she disappears out the door with a wave.

It’s a short walk back to her apartment, and she’s barely out of her coat when her phone dings.

_ Can’t believe you abandoned me _

Lucy snorts, shooting a text back -  _ Can’t believe i’m your dirty little secret AND you didn't tell me it's your birthday  _ \- before heading into the bathroom to shower.  She snaps a picture of herself smirking and texts it to Alex as well.

_ And you still owe me breakfast _

When Lucy emerges from the shower there’s a series of texts waiting for her.

_ You’re the one who left without breakfast _

_ Don’t send me selfies when you abandoned me _

_ Kara thinks you’re too cool for me _

As Lucy scrolls through them, another text pops through, and she almost drops the phone.

_ Kara told mom and dad and now you have to come to dinner with us _

“Fuck,” Lucy mutters.

* * *

Dinner is set for 8:00, and Lucy arrives at 7:45 and paces up and down outside of the restaurant with her hands shoved into her pockets so she doesn’t bite at her nails. Her stress levels have steadily risen throughout the day, the impending dinner-with-parents forcing a discussion over text--

_ (How are you going to introduce me to your parents?? _

_ I don’t know, what are you okay with? _

_ Dating?  Friend?  Girlfriend? You tell me _

_ P sure i can’t make kara pretend she didn’t see you naked in my bed this morning _

_ Girlfriend then?  Is that a thing we’re doing? _

_ I mean if you want it to be _

_ What do you want? _

_ To keep boning you.  Duh _

_ Well obviously, we are excellent at that part.  But do you want to do that exclusively? _

_ Yes _

_ So girlfriend then? _

Two and a half hours of radio silence followed, leaving Lucy glaring angrily at her phone while pretending to study, until another text came through.

_ Sorry, kara made me go to a movie.  Yes, girlfriend) _

\-- that neither Lucy nor Alex had intended to have at any point in the near future.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice materializes behind her at 7:59, and Lucy spins around almost too quickly for her heels to see Alex and Kara.

“Hi,” Lucy says.  She moves on instinct to kiss Alex, but then pulls back, hands hovering uncertainly in the air.  “Your folks here?”

“Parking the car,” Alex says quietly.  Kara smiles broadly at Lucy, a literal ball of sunshine, and Lucy can’t help but smile back.

“This is so cool,” Kara says, elbowing Alex.  “Alex hasn’t dated anyone in like forever, I’m so excited for you guys!”

“Uh--” Lucy starts, but is cut off as what is unmistakably Alex’s parents stroll up behind them.

“Who’s your friend?” Alex’s mother asks pleasantly, smiling at Lucy.

“Um,” Alex says.  She pivots to stand at Lucy’s side.  “This is Lucy.  My girlfriend.”

“I thought you were bringing a boy to dinner,” her mother says slowly.  “I thought you had-- I don’t know, outgrown this.”

Alex sighs, and Lucy takes her hand quietly.  “Bisexuality isn’t a phase, Mom."

“Eliza,” her father says quietly, a hand on her shoulder, before smiling widely at Lucy and offering his hand.  “It’s great to meet you, Lucy.  Jeremiah Danvers.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” she says.  Alex squeezes her other hand tightly as Lucy offers a handshake to her mother.  “Ma’am.”

“Eliza,” her mother says after a long moment, shaking Lucy’s hand.  “Shall we?”  She heads inside, followed by Jeremiah and Kara, who offer Lucy apologetic looks.  Alex hangs back, still holding onto Lucy’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says as soon as the door swings shut behind Jeremiah.  She pushes her hair back, huffing out a deep breath.  “I didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“It’s cool,” Lucy says, but her smile is tight.  

“No, she’s being a dick,” Alex mutters.

“Alex.”  Lucy steps forward to kiss her.  “It’s okay.  You think this is my first time meeting a pissed off parent?”

“Okay,” Alex says with a sigh.  “I just--I don’t know, she’s not like homophobic or anything normally.”

“It’s cool,” Lucy says again, pulling Alex by the hand to the door.  “It’s probably just an adjustment period.”

“Adjustment period, my ass,” Alex grumbles as she follows Lucy to their table.

Eliza is quiet as Kara and Jeremiah chatter through the appetizers, quizzing Lucy on school and her studies; Kara all but bounces with excitement in her chair as Alex blushes when Lucy explains how they met.

“So, Lucy,” Eliza says after the waiter has deposited their dinners on the table.  “Where did you go to college?”

“West Point, actually,” Lucy says.

“As in the military academy?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lucy says.  Under the table, Alex’s hand finds her leg and squeezes gently.

“So you’re in the Army?”

“Not at the moment,” Lucy says, her hand covering Alex’s, fingernails pushing into her skin even as her voice remains light.  “I commissioned after school, but after I served I decided to go to law school and didn’t reup immediately.”

“Were you deployed?”

“I was,” Lucy says.  She drains the rest of her wine.  “I completed two tours before my term was up.”

“Where?”

“Mom,” Alex says quietly.  “I don’t think this is dinnertime conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says.  “I was originally stationed in Kandahar, in Afghanistan, but my unit was transferred early to the Green Zone.  I stayed there for the rest of my first tour and all of my second.”

“Right,” Eliza hums.  “So you support the war in Iraq, then?”

“Mom,” Kara and Alex says at the same time.

“I support the soldiers,” Lucy says.

“But you did two tours there, so clearly you must support the mission of the war, right?  Even though it was clear the US shouldn’t have invaded--”

“Mom!” Alex says loudly.  “You  _ voted _ for Bush, remember?  Twice!”

“And I regret it,” Eliza says.  “Look where that got us.  Invading a country we have no place in, killing people who--”

“Eliza,” Jeremiah says, covering one of her hands with his.

“It’s okay,” Lucy says again.  She dabs at her mouth with her napkin.  “The whole point of serving is so people are free to disagree with what we do.  It would be hypocritical of me to pretend otherwise.”

“What does the military think about the fact that you’re gay?”  Eliza asks.  “Especially since you’re a woman.”

“Hey!” Alex snaps.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says yet again.  “The military doesn’t care about my sexuality.  Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed, as you may remember.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that a patriarchal culture runs through the military, does it?”

“I appreciate your concern for my level of comfort in a military setting, but I assure you it is neither warranted nor required,” Lucy says, voice low and tight.  “I grew up with and in the Army and I am fully capable of handling myself in that context, be it in regard to my sex or my sexuality, and while I respect your opinions regarding the war in Iraq, I’ll ask that you refrain from insulting the people I served with by presuming they’re homophobic or sexist.”

She takes a slow breath and folds her napkin onto the table.  “It was nice to meet you all, but I think it best that I go home at this point.  Please enjoy your dinner.”

“Lucy--” Alex starts, but Lucy rests a hand on your shoulder to cut her off.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly.  “I don’t want to upset your family when they’re visiting you.  I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Lucy retrieves her coat from the back of her chair and pauses to nod to Jeremiah and Kara, and to lay a stack of bills on the table.  “For my portion of the meal.”

She squares her shoulders and strides out of the restaurant, making it through the door before exhaling.  The door clangs open behind her and Alex grabs for her wrist.

“Lucy, wait--”

“It’s okay.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not okay!  She’s completely out of line and is being a total asshole and--”

“Alex, stop,” Lucy says, and her voice wavers, the sound cutting through Alex’s rant.  “Just don’t, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says.  Her mouth turns down and her hands hover in the air between them.  “Can I-- is it cool if I stay at yours tonight?  After this?”

“Yeah,” Lucy says.  “Of course.”  She rubs at her forehead.  “I’m not mad at you.  You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”  Alex moves finally, stepping forward and kissing Lucy, hesitant and unsure.  It’s the first time she’s been uncertain kissing Lucy in the months they’ve been together, and Lucy grips at her hands tightly.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”  She kisses Alex again, up on her toes to reach, and tugs on her shirt briefly before pulling away with a smile and turning to walk down the block.

Alex watches for long seconds as Lucy walks away, spine less straight and shoulders less square than the casually perfect posture she normally maintains, and then stalks back inside.

“You’re a damn child,” she snaps at her mother as she takes her seat.

“Alex!” Jeremiah says. Kara pokes at her food with her fork, carefully avoiding looking at anyone.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”  Alex glares across the table at Eliza.  “You are so far out of line I can’t even articulate it.”

“Alex, I’m looking out for you,” Eliza says.  “I want you to have a good life and she’s not good enough for—“

“Are you  _ serious _ ?” Alex says, letting her knife and fork clatter loudly down onto the plate.  “She’s at  _ Harvard _ for some ungodly difficult joint degree, there’s no universe in which she isn’t good enough  for anyone.  You have never once had a word to say for or against the war you’re bitching at her about, so why don’t you grow up and tell me what your actual problem is?”

“People are going to judge you if you’re with a woman,” Eliza says sharply.  “You need to grow up, Alex, you’re finishing school in a year and you need to stop playing around with this rebellious nonsense phase and find a real job and a serious relationship.”

“A serious relationship,” Alex repeats.  “What makes it serious, the presence of a penis?”

Kara chokes on her wine and slumps down in her chair, flushing bright red as Jeremiah clears his throat and Eliza hisses out another “ _ Alex! _ ”

“No, I want to know,” Alex says, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward.  “Is it only serious if it’s a man?  Are you telling me that my relationships, serious or otherwise, only matter if they involve  _ men _ ?  That I need to be with a man to validate my existence?”

“Alexandra, stop it,” Eliza says lowly.  “You’re making a scene.”

“I’m not the one who made a scene,” Alex says, loud enough to attract the attention of the tables nearest them.  “I’m not the one who started insulting someone she’d just met and threw a tantrum like a child and chased her out of the restaurant before we’d even started eating!”

“I want the best for you,” Eliza says, setting her emptied wine glass down with a clang.  “And that means someone who isn’t going to make life harder for you!”

“Okay, everyone, please,” Jeremiah says.  “Can we just—“

“Dad, don’t,” Alex says.  She tosses her napkin onto the table and scrapes her chair back loudly.  She stands and glares down at her mother, leaning on the table.  “I don’t require your input or approval for my relationships.  And I don’t have to sit here and listen to you disparage my choices or the choices of someone I like, or the fact that she chose a career that involves risking her life so you can safely sit on your ass in Illinois complaining about the war that a president  _ you _ voted for started.”

Alex grabs her coat, yanking it off her chair with enough force to jar the whole table and slosh water out of half of the glasses, and storms past the waiter who’s been standing apprehensively halfway over to their table with a fresh bottle of wine.  She brushes Kara off outside of the restaurant and hails a cab, muttering out Lucy’s address, and glowers the whole ride over.

A neighbor is leaving as Alex exits the cab, and she ducks into the building and takes the stairs up instead of waiting for the elevator.  Her breath is coming more heavily than normal by the time she crests the sixth floor and stomps out to Lucy’s apartment, banging on the door.  A litany of creative curses at her mother floods through her thoughts as she waits for Lucy to answer, but when the door opens all she manages to blurt out is “ _ You’re good enough _ ” just before she kisses Lucy, harsh and heavy and frantic.

“What—“ Lucy mumbles against her mouth even as she’s manhandled around and shoved against the door as it shuts with a bang, Alex’s weight heavy against her front.  It’s not until Alex’s hands skid down her abdomen and under the waistband of her sweatpants that Lucy pulls back, pushing at Alex’s shoulders until she stops sucking on Lucy’s collarbone and lets her forehead thunk down onto Lucy’s shoulder instead.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.  Her body drapes over Lucy’s, the fight siphoning its way out of her and taking her energy with it.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks after a long silence, her hands under Alex’s shirt and pressing meticulously into the spaces between her vertebrae.

“My mom is an asshole,” Alex says into Lucy’s shirt.

“Well, you know, I didn’t want to be the one who said it…” Lucy says liltingly, and Alex laughs quietly, slapping at her hip.

“I don’t agree with her,” Alex says.  She pulls back enough to stand up straight and look Lucy in the eye.  “About the Army, or about you, or about—any of it.”

“I believe you,” Lucy says, pushing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek.  “I really do.”

“I don’t think Kara or my dad do, either,” Alex says.  “If that’s worth anything.  And I don’t even know if my mom does, she’s just got some—I don’t know, residual internalized homophobia or some other bullshit like that, I guess.  She doesn’t give a shit about the war in Iraq and never has.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know if that’s necessarily any better,” Lucy drawls.  “But I guess it’s a start.”  Her hands drop to Alex’s hips and push gently, backing her away from the door and towards the bedroom.

“I’m sorry for what she said,” Alex says again.  “Really.”

“I know,” Lucy says, soft smile and tired shoulders sucking the rage out of Alex as they shuffle into Lucy’s room and Lucy deposits her on the bed.  “I was going to take you out to dinner tomorrow, as a late birthday present—and I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that, by the way—but if you want, you can pay as an apology for your mom being a jerk.”

“Birthdays are stupid,” Alex mumbles as she toes out of her boots and unceremoniously shucks her jeans.

“I happen to expect a very spectacular birthday celebration for me from you, for the record,” Lucy says as she unbuttons Alex’s shirt.  “So don’t hate on them too much.”

“Fine, my birthday is stupid,” Alex says.  “Your birthday can be cool.”

“Outstanding,” Lucy deadpans.  Alex pulls her bra out from under her t-shirt and lets it drop onto the floor next to her button down, flopping sleepily back down onto the mattress.  Lucy rolls her eyes and picks up Alex’s discarded clothes, settling the boots neatly by the bedside table and folding the clothes precisely atop them.  After locking up the apartment, she slides under the covers and curls up around Alex’s back.  Her arm fits neatly around Alex’s hip and her lips fall between her shoulder blades, familiar and easy, and Alex snuffles softly, already half asleep.

“You’re a good girlfriend, Alex Danvers,” Lucy whispers into her back.

“Hell yeah I am,” Alex mumbles.  


	6. Chapter 6

The second week in May, after Lucy’s finals and Alex’s comps are done and before Lucy’s impending graduation ceremony, Alex comes over to Lucy’s apartment after her delivery shift.  She brings takeout and beer and lets herself into the building, the code to the front door familiar and easy by now, and hikes the six pack under her arm so she can knock on the apartment door.

“It’s open,” sounds from the other side of the door, and Alex lets herself in to find Lucy standing on a chair at her kitchen table, hands on her hips as she stares down at the neat stacks of paper covering her table with a bird's-eye view.

“At this point you could just throw darts at them and pick based on that, you know,” Alex says as she shoves the door closed with her hip.

“It’s so stupid,” Lucy groans.  She reaches out and grabs at Alex’s bag, pulling her closer until Alex sets the beer and food on the floor so she can curl a hand around Lucy’s calf and press a kiss to her hipbone.  “Like, I really should have figured this out months ago, and I feel like such a  _ dick _ because there are people in my class who didn’t get any offers and I just--”

“Need to take a break,” Alex says.  “You can tackle that after you eat.”  She grabs Lucy around the legs and lifts her off the chair, ignoring the disgruntled squeak the Lucy lets out as she carries her over and deposits her on the couch.  

“Stay,” Alex says.  

“I’m not a dog,” Lucy grumbles as Alex brings their dinner over.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex says, settling on the couch opposite her and handing her a beer.  She offers her own beer for Lucy to tap her bottle against.  “To having too many good choices.”

“Ugh,” Lucy says.  She digs a styrofoam container of food out of the bag and hands it to Alex.  “Did you finish grading?”

“They’re all idiots and I’m failing them,” Alex says with an eye roll.  

“So, that’s going well, then,” Lucy says.  Alex groans and flops back on the couch, stabbing at her food with a fork angrily.  Lucy pokes at her with her foot, drawing a halfhearted slap on the shin from Alex.

They eat in easy silence, Lucy occasionally poking at Alex with her foot and Alex regularly stealing food off of Lucy’s plate.  Afterwards, as Lucy transfers leftovers into Tupperware, Alex stands by the table, surveying the stacks of paper labelled with descriptions such as “Boston, torts, old white guys” and “New York, entertainment, young white guys” on top of the offer letters and contracts underneath them.

“What’s this one?”  She points at the top right of the grid of paper stacks Lucy has arranged, where the space is occupied not by a stack but by a single blank sheet.  

Lucy hums quietly, moving behind Alex and wrapping around her, up on her toes to rest her chin on Alex’s shoulder.  

“JAG corps,” she says quietly.  “In the Army.”

Alex twists around, brow furrowing as she breaks from Lucy’s hold.  “You’re thinking about going back in?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy says with a sigh.  “Maybe?  I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know you were even considering going back,” Alex says.  “Not that I need to know, I just--you never mentioned anything.”

“I hadn’t been thinking about it,”  Lucy says.  “Not really, not until recently.”

“What changed?”

Lucy takes a deep breath and shrugs as she lets it out.  “I don’t know, nothing in front of me is clicking, I guess?  I have more options than I know what to do with, and none of them feel right.”

“Well, what  _ do _ you want to do?”  Alex sits on the kitchen table, pulling at Lucy’s hands until she moves to stand between her knees.  

“I have no idea,” Lucy grumbles.  “The mergers work sounds interesting, but so does intellectual property, and entertainment law.  All of it sounds  _ interesting _ , but not really interesting, if that makes sense?”

“And returning to the Army appeals to you more?”

“Yes?  Maybe?”  Lucy huffs out a sigh, picking at the seam on Alex’s jeans.  “Or maybe I just think that because it’s something I’m familiar with?”  She moves to pulling at Alex’s watch, thumb running around the face in one direction, then another, and then back again.

“Maybe,” Alex says.

“What should I do?” Lucy asks.

“Hell if I know,” Alex says with a shrug.  “I should probably say that you should try something new, but it’s not like I’m in a hurry to leave MIT after I graduate, either.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I already have a post-doc offer, unofficially,” Alex says.  “I could keep doing the same research, in the same lab, keep my apartment, all of that.”  She shrugs again.  “So yeah, I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

Lucy groans, slumping down against Alex.  “Making decisions is hard, I don’t wanna do it.”

“There, there, dear,” Alex says, patting her hair.  Lucy slaps at her leg.  “Okay, okay, helpful.  I can be helpful.”  Alex takes a deep breath and moves her hands to Lucy’s shoulders, hopping off the table to stand behind her and look down at all of the papers.

“Eliminate one,” Alex says.  “On instinct, what’s the first one you’d nix?”

Lucy points at the stack labelled “New York, entertainment, young white guys”.

“Yeah?”

“Their office is in Chelsea, I would shoot some pretentious barista in the first week.”

Alex snorts and moves the eliminated stack to a chair with a flourish.  She resumes her place at Lucy’s back, sliding her hands into the pockets of Lucy’s jeans.  “Next one.”

Lucy pauses, holding her breath, and then points at a stack labelled “Boston, intellectual property, old white guys.”

“Oh?”

“All of their senior partners are dudes.”

“Ew,” Alex says with a nod as she dumps the papers in the chair.  They work through the pile methodically, paring it down from nine to six to three.

“So,” Alex says, sprawled on the couch with her feet in Lucy’s lap.  “That’s progress, right?”

“Yeah,” Lucy says.  “That’s enough for one night, right?”

“Cut out one more and we can call it a night.”

“Ugh,” Lucy groans.  “Slave driver.”

“You’re hilarious,” Alex says.  She pokes at Lucy’s ribs with her toes.  “Come on, get it down to two and I’ll go down on you.”

“Oh, please.”  Lucy rolls her eyes.  “Like that’s not going to happen anyways.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at her and pulls her feet out of Lucy’s lap.  “Is that a challenge?”

“Nah,” Lucy says.  She stretches and stands from the couch, taking their wine glasses to the kitchen.  “I’ll finish after I shower,” she says, making her way towards the bathroom and peeling off her shirt.  She pokes her head out of the bathroom to look at Alex.  “You coming?”

“Nice try.”

“Seriously?  You think I’m trying to seduce you with shower sex?  I could not be less interested in shower sex, you know that, we’d both fall and break out heads.”  

“Fair point,” Alex says.  “I’ll just be here, then, working.”  She pulls her laptop out of her bag.  

“If that’s what you want to do,” Lucy says.  She throws her shirt across the apartment, nailing Alex in the face with it.  Alex untangles herself from it with a disgruntled noise just in time to see Lucy standing in front of her.

“Oh,” Alex mumbles.  Lucy sets her laptop on the coffee table and settles on Alex’s lap instead, grabbing Alex’s hands and moving them to her hips.  “Oh.”

* * *

“So what was that about a challenge?” Lucy says, propping up on her elbows and looking down to where Alex is laying, her cheek resting against the inside of Lucy’s leg.

“Not a word from you, asshole,” Alex mutters.

“Well.”  Lucy shifts to sit up, unhooking her legs from over Alex’s shoulders, and leans forward to kiss Alex.  “If it makes you feel any better about losing, then can I at least say that winning that helped me make a decision about the job thing?”

“You were thinking about job offers when we were having sex?”  Alex stares at her, eyes wide and mouth downturned, so offended that Lucy laughs in spite of herself.

“I’m going to take one of the jobs in Boston,” she says, linking her hands behind Alex’s neck.  “No JAG corps.”

“What?”

“I want to try living and working outside of the Army,” she says.  “And I want to stay in Boston, I think.”

“Oh,” Alex says slowly.  “Oh.”

“I’m not trying to say that I want to like move in with you or anything,” Lucy adds, rushing the words out.  “I know this is new and stuff, but I also-- I like Boston, and I like you, and it’s not like I’m settling with any of the job offers here, so--”

“No U-hauling,” Alex says.  “Check.”  She pushes forward to kiss Lucy again, pausing only to pull back and mumble, “So I’m just  _ that _ good in bed, then?”

Lucy slaps at her leg, loud enough that it echoes through the apartment, and Alex hits her with a pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

“You did what now?”

“I quit my job.”

Alex blinks, hands still weighted down with groceries, still standing by the front door of Lucy’s apartment.

“I hated working there,” Lucy says, pacing in front of her.  “It was boring and they’re just useless and undisciplined and I spend more time listening to overeducated frat bros talk about strip clubs than anything else and I just--”

“Quit,” Alex says.  “Okay.”  She sets the groceries down and rolls her shoulders with a wince.  “So now what?”

Lucy shudders to a halt, her hands shoved into her pockets, and she won’t meet Alex’s eyes.

“Lucy--”

“I put in the paperwork this morning,” she says hurriedly.  “I have four weeks to get things in order and then I’m officially in the JAG corps.”

Alex stares at her.  Her hands hang uselessly at her sides, her gloves and scarf and coat still on, and Lucy reaches out hesitantly, unzipping her coat.

“Say something,” she says.  Her fingers pull at Alex’s scarf, gentle and unsure, and she unwraps it from Alex’s neck.

“The JAG corps,” Alex says.  “You’re going back to the Army.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re leaving in four weeks,” Alex says.

“Alex,” Lucy says quietly.  “I--”

“What the hell,” Alex mutters. She pulls away from Lucy, taking her scarf with her and yanking it free from her coat.  The coat rack rattles as she slams her coat onto a hook.  “So that’s it?  You’re going back to the military, going God knows where, back to a war zone?”

“Deployment doesn’t mean I’ll be in a war zone,” Lucy says.  “Alex, I just-- I understand the military, I can work there, I can work with those people and that system.  I can’t work with these corporate idiots--”

“You worked at  _ one _ company for less than a year!” Alex says.  “That’s not exactly an accurate sample for forming an opinion on the entire civilian sector!”

“This is one of the best law firms in the country and I’m  _ bored _ .  I hate the people I work with, and the clients, and the counsel from other firms, all of them.  It’s messy and it’s not challenging and the people make me want to tear my hair out!”

“So do something else!  Go to another firm, go to industry, work for a non-profit, start your own practice.  Do something that doesn’t involve you going to back into the military!”

“Why shouldn’t I?”  Lucy’s pacing starts up again.  “The Army is basically everything I know in my life.  I thought I could live outside of it and I managed okay in school because school was challenging and I had to work hard for it, but this-- this isn’t what I want to do with my life, Alex. I have to go back, I just-- don’t feel done with the Army yet.

“Please tell me you understand that,” she says.  She stops in front of Alex, her shoulders too straight and her fists too tight.  “Please.”

“And what about me?” Alex’s shoulders drop with her voice, and Lucy’s teeth ache at the way her posture slumps.  “Am I supposed to just sit here and watch you go off to war again?  Am I supposed to wait for you?”

“Alex,” Lucy says again, her name coming out thick and tangled.

“I kinda thought this was something serious,” Alex says.  “But I can’t-- I can’t do the long distance thing, I’m not cut out for it even when it’s not long distance with someone in a war zone.  I would fuck everything up.”

“I know,” Lucy says quietly.  Her jaw clenches visibly, and Alex swallows, and neither of them move towards the other.  “But I can’t stay here, Alex, not yet.  I’m just-- not ready to not be in the military, and I thought I was, but I’m not.”

“So that’s it, then?  Unstoppable force, immovable object.”  Alex pushes a hand through her hair when Lucy stays quiet, watching for long seconds before turning to retrieve her coat.  “I’m going to stay at my place, I think.”

“Alex, wait,” Lucy starts.  “Please don’t--”

“I need to sort through this,” Alex says quietly, waving a hand around her head vaguely.  “Without being around you, at least at first, so I don’t spend all my time trying to talk you out of it.”

“Oh.”  Lucy wraps her arms around her stomach.  “Right.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Alex says.  She pauses, scarf on but coat unzipped, and then steps forward and presses a kiss to Lucy’s cheek.  Lucy’s fingers curl into the pocket of Alex’s coat instinctively, holding loosely even as she starts to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy says, just as Alex is about to close the door behind her.

“For what?”

“For-- this, for screwing this up, for not being ready to stay.”

Alex takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door quietly.  “If you’re not ready to be out of the military, then you should go back,” she says, her voice tight but her hands soft on Lucy’s arms.  “You don’t have to apologize for that, even if I’m not happy about it.”

“I have to apologize for  _ something _ ,” Lucy mumbles.  Her posture gives out finally and she slumps against Alex, burying her forehead in the crook of her neck.  “I want this--you and me-- I want this to be something serious.”

“Yeah, but if that means you staying somewhere and being unhappy just to try and make it work, how’s that going to end up?”

“I know,” Lucy says.  “I know, I just-- I thought I would adjust to it.”

Alex’s arms curve around her waist, and Lucy pushes further into her.  “I’m sorry,” she says again.  “Can you please stay tonight?”

There’s a long delay before Alex answers, a quiet “ _ Okay _ ” murmured against the side of Lucy’s head.

* * *

Four weeks pass, filled with Alex working longer hours in the lab and Lucy packing up her life, Thanksgiving travels, one of Alex’s students accidentally setting a fire in the lab and Alex spending the night with the fire department and campus security explaining the situation, Lucy shipping her belongings back to her parents’ house and flying out to visit her sister for a weekend.  

Four weeks pass, and Lucy’s apartment is emptied out and she spends her last days in Boston at Alex’s, and Alex clears her schedule and spends the days at home.

Four weeks pass, and Alex takes a cab with Lucy to the airport.

“So,” Lucy says, her heel tapping on the floor of the car as they sit at a red light.

“So,” Alex says.

“How does this work?”

“I have exactly no idea,” Alex says with a shrug. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know you-- I don’t expect you to wait for me or anything,” Lucy says quietly, stepping carefully into the conversation they’ve avoided for the last month.  “Long distance isn’t for everyone, and it hasn’t even been a year, so I don’t-- I want you to know that I don’t expect you to wait for me to come back.”

“Right,” Alex says with a slow breath.  “Four years is a long time.”

“I know,” Lucy mumbles.  “Do you want to stay friends?”

Alex barks out a laugh.  “Of course I do, you moron,” she says, smiling over at Lucy and kicking at her calf.  “I’m sad you’re leaving and it sucks, but that doesn’t mean I want to just cut you out of my life.”  Her smile shrinks, and she slumps back into her seat.  “Besides, even if we’re not together, it’s not going to stop me from worrying about you.  I want to know how you are and where you are.”

“Okay,” Lucy says softly.  “Okay.”  She scoots across the middle seat and presses a kiss to Alex’s cheek, curling up into her side.  

At the airport, Alex’s hand stays firmly wrapped around Lucy’s as she waits in line to check her bags.  It’s a long line, and Alex is quiet as Lucy chatters nervously to fill the silence-- about the assignment she’s already received to a base in Italy, about how it’s unlikely she’ll be deployed to a combat zone, about how she’ll miss the food at the Chinese restaurant near her apartment.

“So,” Alex says finally, once Lucy has her boarding pass tucked into her passport and they’ve made their way over to the beginning of the security line.

“So,” Lucy echoes.  “I guess this is it, yeah? Dramatic airport goodbyes and all that whatnot.”

“So to speak.”  Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the air whistling through her teeth.  “So we’re going to try this friends thing, right?  Facebook and all of that crap.”

Lucy laughs, smiling at her.  “Once I get a phone set up over there, I’ll text you.  Don’t go changing your number or anything on me, okay?”

“Right,” Alex says.  “Be safe, okay?  Please.”

“Of course,” Lucy says.  She pulls on the zipper of Alex’s jacket, tugging her closer so she can lean up on her toes to kiss her.  “I promise.”

Alex kisses her again, hands heavy on her hips and Lucy’s arms around her neck.  It’s slow and unhurried, Alex’s fingers tight on Lucy’s hips, unprepared to let go quite yet.

“I’m going to miss you,” Lucy mumbles into Alex’s mouth.  She pulls back just enough to speak.  “And I l--”

Alex pulls her into another kiss, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence.  “Don’t pull that romantic soldier bullshit on me, Lane,” she grumbles.  “Because you’re not going to a war zone and you’re not going to be in combat and everything is going to be fine, right?”

“Right,” Lucy says, aiming for a smile but only making it halfway there.  She combs her fingers through Alex’s hair, straightening it carefully from where she’d left it dishevelled.  “Not saying it.”

“Not saying it,” Alex says.  “But if you were, I would, too.  For the record.”

“Right,” Lucy says again.  She drops her head into Alex’s shoulder, hugging her tight enough for Alex’s ribs to protest, but Alex just holds on equally tightly in response.  

“Okay,” Alex says after a long series of moments have ticked by, clearing her throat and pulling her arms back to shove her hands in her back pockets.  “You should probably--”

“Yeah,” Lucy says, coughing delicately.  “Right.”  She checks her boarding pass and passport uselessly, glancing over at the security line and then back to Alex.  “Dramatic airport goodbyes, check.”

It draws a laugh from Alex, quiet and sad, and she nods.  “Check.”  She tilts her head to one side, taking a careful step back.  “Have a safe flight, Lucy Lane.”

“Don’t study too hard, Alex Danvers,” Lucy says.  “I’ll talk to you soon, right?”

“You know where to find me,” Alex says.

“Yeah, I do,” Lucy mumbles, clenching at her passport tightly enough to bend the cover and rumple the boarding pass.

“I’m gonna,” Alex starts, gesturing over her shoulder.  “Go, I guess.”

“Okay,” Lucy says.  “Take care of yourself.”

“Always do,” Alex says with a wink.  She leans towards Lucy momentarily, but then clears her throat and instead backs away another step, and then another.  “Bye, Lucy.”

“Goodbye, Alex,” Lucy says quietly.  She watches as Alex nods once, and then a second time, and then finally turns around and starts walking.  She keeps watching as Alex shuffles out of the airport and grabs a recently vacated taxi, until Alex looks back through the giant glass windows to wave tiredly at her once more.  Lucy waves, and watches as Alex disappears into the cab, and then turns back to the security line.


	8. Chapter 8

**Week 1:**

_ I’m going to murder my students _

_ You said that yesterday _

_ Yeah but this time they deserve it _

_ Alex do not murder anyone _

_ They’re idiots.  Also my mom is being a dick again can you come back here and yell at her for me _

_ Sure let me just commandeer a jet and fly to illinois to do that, nbd _

_ Bring me a cannoli  _

[Five minutes later:]

_ I miss you and i hope you’re totally bored in italy _

_ I miss you too _

* * *

**Week 6:**

“Fucking piece of-- hey!” Alex says, the Skype video finally flickering to life to show Lucy.

“Were you getting outsmarted by Skype again?”

“Shut up and drink your fancy wine,” Alex says with a grumble.  “Some of us are still working, you know.”

“Yes, well,” Lucy says, stretching luxuriously and sprawling on the couch with her wine.  “Some of us are in a much better time zone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex says.  “So.  Hey.”

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Lucy says with a broad smile and wink.  “By the way, my dad was here recently.  He said to tell you hi.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.  He liked you, remember?”

“I remember that you threatened me with him plus a battalion of soldiers.”

“That was like, forever ago,” Lucy says.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Alex says.  “So, how goes it?”

“I miss you.”

* * *

**Week 12:**

**From** : Lucy Lane

**To** : Alex Danvers

**Subject** : Re: re: re: re: re: 

_ To be very clear, as much as I enjoy receiving them, in the future if you want to send me drunk naked selfies, maybe DON’T send them to my work email?  You do realize that the Army retains all of my emails, right?  I fully appreciate your hotness but I also don’t really think you want the entire Army appreciating it… _

 

**From** : Alex Danvers

**To** : Lucy Lane

**Subject** : Re: re: re: re: re: re:

_ Lucy Lane I swear to god if you don’t find a way to scrub that picture from the Army’s records I will fly all the way to Italy just to punch you in the face. _

* * *

**Week 14:**

_ Kara finally got a new job _

_ FINALLY what is it? _

_ Some blog thing.  She basically gets paid to go to concerts and write about the people in the crowd _

_...she gets paid to go to events that other people pay money to go to, specifically so she can make fun of them? _

_ Yep _

_ I’m so angry I’m going to steal her job _

_ Yeah, sure you are _

_ Also can you tell her congratulations for me please _

_ Never _

* * *

**Week 17:**

Alex’s phone rings, the screen flashing with the Skype logo from where it’s mounted on her handlebars.  She pokes at it with one finger, managing to accept the call without swerving.

“Hey, how did-- are you on your bike?”

“It sure does look like that, doesn’t it,” Alex says, glancing down to smirk at Lucy’s face.  “What’s up?”

“Alex, you could crash, hang up the phone!”

“You first, Harvard.  I told you, I haven’t crashed a bike since I was--”

“Seven years old, yeah yeah yeah,” Lucy says.  “Fine, whatever.  Is that the hat I gave you?”

“Affirmative.”

“God, that thing is hideous, I can’t believe you’re wearing it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alex says, glancing down at the screen.

“So how did it go?”

“What time is it over there?”

“It’s late so stop changing the subject and tell me how it went!”

“How what went?”  Alex slows to a stop at a red light, pulling over in front of a fire hydrant and leaning on her handlebars to look down at Lucy.  She tugs obviously on the tipped-up brim of the violently neon green cycling hat Lucy had given her for her birthday the year before.

“You shit, I swear to God,” Lucy mutters.  “Your dissertation defense, you gigantic asshole.”

“Oh, that,” Alex says.  She hums noncommittally, keeping a straight face as long as she can until Lucy’s glare wins out.  “I passed.”

Lucy lets out an excited cheer.  “Congratulations!  I knew you’d do great!”

“Oh, I did terrible,” Alex says, rolling her eyes.  “I was, and I quote, ‘very argumentative’, which you’d think would be a good thing, but whatever.  But the work was good, so they couldn’t really justify not passing me.”

“You insulted somebody, didn’t you?”

“I would never.”

“Uh huh.”  Lucy smiles broadly anyways.  “I’m proud of you.  Doctor Alex Danvers.”

“Oh, man, seriously do not call me that.”

“Really?”

Alex shrugs.  “Okay, it’s kinda hot when you do, I guess.”

“Well, what can I say,” Lucy says.  She flicks her hair over her shoulder.  “Everything I do is, at a bare minimum, kinda hot.”

* * *

 

**Week 33:**

“Not that I’m complaining,” Alex says through heavy breaths, staring up at the ceiling above her bed, Lucy’s head resting on the sweaty skin of her stomach and fingers tracing the tattoo on her right arm.  Scattered around her apartment are various pieces of her clothes and Lucy’s uniform.  “But isn’t your family gonna be mad that you didn’t use your leave to go visit them?”

“They’ll get over it,” Lucy says.  She bites down gently on Alex’s hip, smirking when Alex shudders, and settles back down between her legs once more.  

“I think I need a minute--”

“I have a limited timeframe to work with here, and anyways, adversity builds character, Doctor Danvers,” Lucy says, moving forward anyways.  It draws a loud groan out of Alex and a satisfied hum from Lucy as Alex’s fingers grip at her hair.

* * *

**Week 40:**

_ Weren’t we going to skype tonight? _

[72 minutes later:]

_ Okay I guess you forgot.  Let me know when you want to reschedule, i’m in a field exercise for the next 96 hours but will be back after that _

* * *

**Week 51:**

_ Merry christmas, lucy.  I hope it’s a good one _

[Two days later:]

_ Sorry, been really busy.  Hope you had a good christmas _

* * *

**Week 82:**

_ Can we skype soon?  I want to talk to you about something _

_ Sorry, been swamped at work.  Yeah of course we can.  Is everything okay? _

_ I’m being deployed to Afghanistan _

* * *

**Week 114:**

A letter appears in Alex’s stack of mail, the envelope worse for wear and stamped with forwarding address labels from her old lab in MIT to the one in Bethesda she now runs, and she has it open on autopilot to familiar handwriting before she pauses and looks back to the return address.  The air in her lungs catches somewhere in her throat, and she sets the letter down on her desk with uncertain fingers.

_ Dear Alex, _

_ I hope this gets to you - as far as I know you’re still working at MIT, so hopefully I got the address right.  I thought about sending this in an email, but it seemed weirdly informal at this point.  Then again, maybe I’m kidding myself about there being any formality to stand on with us at this point. _

_ I just want you to know that I’m in Afghanistan, though I can’t really specify where right now.  It’s been very safe so far and hopefully that will continue, so if you’re inclined to worry about me, I hope you don’t too much.   _

_ I know we haven’t talked much in the last  few years, as we’ve both been busy.  I’m not going to take all of the blame for us no longer talking, though, because you started disappearing long before I was deployed to Afghanistan.  I understand that long distance anything is hard, romantic or platonic, and I do respect that.  I’m not trying to make you feel bad about anything, because you haven’t done anything wrong.   _

_ Anyways, the point I’m trying to get to, besides the fact that I hope you’re doing well, is that I’ve been talking with my dad (perks of us both being Army, I suppose) and he’s working with some folks on a project that maybe up your alley.  They’re going to look for labs to contract with and obviously the first person I thought of was you.  You’ve probably already heard about it, but if you haven’t, then I hope it’s okay that I pointed my dad’s team in your direction.  Obviously if you don’t want to work on the project, then that’s fine, but you’re too good at what you do to not be at least considered for the contracts.  I wanted to make sure you were on their radar.   _

_ I hope that’s okay. _

_ I’ve also decided, I think, that I’m not going to reup after this.  I think this may have been the last I needed of the military, and I may be ready to have another go at the civilian thing again.  I’d still have another four years of inactive duty, but I think I may finally be ready for that life.  I don’t say that in hopes that I can convince you to be there waiting for me when I get out or anything, but just so you know.   _

_ I really do hope you’re doing well. _

_ Best, _

_ Lucy Lane _

The postmark is nearly six weeks old, the paper battered from its travels from Afghanistan to Boston to Maryland.   Alex stares down at the letter, reading it through once, and then a second time, and is starting a third time when a knock on the door snaps her out of it.

“Dr. Danvers, sorry--”

“James, I swear to God, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

He coughs, pushing at his glasses, and Alex sighs.  

“What’s up?”

“I’m having some trouble with some of the modeling programs,” he says sheepishly.  

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” she says with a smile.  “They were designed by a demon.”  She folds the letter carefully and slides it back into the envelope, propping it against her keyboard for later and gesturing him out of the office as she follows.  

“Actually, one sec, sorry, I’ll meet you there,” Alex says, clapping him on the shoulder and darting back into her office.  She leans over her desk, tapping out an email and sending off before locking her computer and heading back down the hall after James, the letter still sitting on her desk.

**From:** Alex Danvers

**To:** David Hallstatt

**Subject:** Gov Stuff?

_ Do we have anything in the pipeline for a government contract right now? _

* * *

**Week 181:**

Lucy returns to Italy with a third stripe on her sleeve, two new ribbons on her uniform, and fourteen fewer members from her company than she left with.  She spends her first weekend off scrubbing at the grime under her fingernails and on her skin until she’s raw, but clean, cleaner than she’d felt in months.  The next weekend, she calls in every favor she has to confirm that she’s not going back and to reassign herself to a base in the US.

With six months left on her enlistment with the JAG corps, she receives her orders and, a freshly minted Lieutenant Colonel, Lucy Lane flies home to DC.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Please Note** : This chapter contains discussion of sexual harassment and sexual assault in the military. It is neither graphic nor detailed, but it is present, and I would be remiss not to offer a trigger warning. Please also be aware that what is mentioned in this chapter is by no means a comprehensive explanation of the enormous issue that is sexual assault in the military-- something that [the United Nations specifically called out as a human rights problem in the US in 2015](http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2015/05/un-human-rights-council-us-military-do-better-victims-sexual-violence)\-- that, in fact, more men are victims of sexual assault in the military than women by actual numbers (even if the percentage of women victimized is higher) and that I made a distinct and carefully considered authorial choice in this chapter regarding gender to drive a character point through; and that I am in no way a reliable source for factual information regarding it. I did the best I could through research and hopefully did not distort anything; if I did, please be kind enough to let me know and I will immediately work to edit and better represent the issue.
> 
> For additional information or resources regarding this issue, or issues regarding sexual assault or harassment as a broader issue, I suggest starting [here](http://afterdeployment.dcoe.mil/sites/default/files/pdfs/client-handouts/mst-sexual-assault-harassment.pdf), [here](http://www.protectourdefenders.com/factsheet/>here</>,%20%20or%20</a%20href=), or [here](https://rainn.org/).

“Man, I want to work here.” Lieutenant Davis cranes his neck to look through the windshield at the glaringly bright glass building in front of them.

“Right,” Lucy says, raising an eyebrow at him.  “Didn’t you say you hate working with scientists?”

“Oh, I do.  But can you imagine what the sunset looks like from one of those west offices, with those windows?”

“Right,” Lucy says again.  She slots the car into a parking spot carefully.  She’s only been back for two months and, somehow, driving and parking is the slowest thing to come back to her this time around.  

“So,” Davis says as they walk in, squinting in the sunlight.  “What’s the gameplan?”

“The gameplan is that we sort this shit out so I can go home and have a glass of wine at a reasonable hour tonight,” Lucy mumbles.  “I want this contract finalized by the end of the month.”

“So I’m going to-”

“You,” she says, turning to face him swiftly.  “Are going to take very good notes.  In the event that I require your expertise, I will ask for it.  This is a negotiation, and you are a very good contract attorney, but you’re new and your negotiating is still a work in progress.”

He snaps to attention, a sharp “Yes, ma’am” coming out of his mouth, and Lucy nods briskly at him.  

Inside, they’re guided up an elevator to a conference room that looks out at a sprawling golf course.  Davis ogles the golf course while Lucy fixes herself a cup of coffee, grimacing at the Keurig’s refusal to cooperate smoothly.

At 9:00, no one else has arrived, and Lucy glares at the clock.  At 9:02, the door bursts open, and a harried looking man in a suit hustles in.

“Apologies, please,” he says.  “I’m the lead counsel for the firm, I’m so sorry, but our project lead just found out about a family emergency and he’s going to have to fly out to New Delhi tonight--”

“Who’s his second in command, then?” Lucy asks.

“Well, we don’t technically have--”

“You don't have a redundancy built into your organizational structure to account for situations like this, and you want the US government to hand over  _ how _ much money in funding?”

“Ma’am--”

“Lieutenant Colonel Lane, if you would be so kind,” Lucy says.  “You’re Hitchens, right?  Yale, then Duke, all on scholarship, yes?”

“I--yes,” he says, blinking at her.

“I do my homework,” Lucy says.  “And I understand that it must be difficult wrangling scientists, so to give you the benefit of the doubt, let’s reschedule this meeting to 9:30, and you come back here with a new functional project lead so we can discuss the possibility of this contract.”

“Of course,” he says.  “Thank you.”

He hurries back out of the room, and Davis finally turns to face her, an eyebrow raised.

“Are you sure that you--”

“This company is a behemoth of a think tank,” Lucy says.  “There’s definitely someone in one of those labs that can run this project instead, that’s not a stretch for them, but now we’re already giving them a break, which minimizes their leverage in the contract negotiation.”

“Oh,” he says.  “Oh.”

“Now, for the love of God, can you make this goddamned coffee maker work?”

* * *

Twenty minutes pass, and Hitchens returns, less hurried and less harried, his suit straightened and breathing normal.

“We’ll be ready to begin shortly,” he says.  “Our interim project lead has worked extensively with Dr. Saran in the last year, she’s one of our rising stars.”

“I’m sure,” Lucy says.  

“My team will be along with her in just a moment and we can get started,” he says.  He hands Lucy and Davis each a thick presentation bound in clear plastic, the company logo shining up from the cover page.

“Okay, here we go,” Hitchens says as the door opens again.  “This is my team, we’re the representation of the interests of the company, and this--” he digs a hand into the crowd of attorneys and comes up with the white arm of a coat worn by-- “--and this is Doctor Danvers, our interim project lead.  Everyone, this is Lieutenant Colonel Lane and Lieutenant Davis, here to represent the interests of the US government.”

Lucy stares across the conference room at Alex, who’s gaping back at her.  Her hair is still short, but neater, and her rumpled lab coat and button down cover her tattoos, though she’s still wearing skinny jeans that look like they’ve had a few too many run ins with bicycle grease.  Alex’s mouth shuts with an audible click as everyone moves to take their seats, settling at the table with legal pads and laptops; she takes a seat at the far end from Lucy, placing her phone on the table and nothing else.

“So, as we all know,” Hitchens says.  “We’re here today to negotiate the terms of a contract between Paragon Research, LLC, represented by myself and my team, and the US government, represented by Lieutenant Colonel Lane and Lieutenant Davis.  Shall we begin?”

“Let’s get to it,” Lucy says hoarsely, sneaking another look at Alex, who’s staring unabashedly at her.  Lucy clears her throat and opens her briefcase, pulling her own papers on to the table.  “As a reminder, these proceedings are classified and will not be discussed outside of this room unless explicitly allowed.  Given that, Lieutenant Davis, can you please start with an overview of the project requirements stipulated in the RFP?”

She keeps her focus on the presentation documents in front of her, flipping through the proposal provided by Paragon and determinedly not replacing “Dr. Saran” with “Dr. Danvers” every time she sees it.

Down the table, Alex sits silently, her own copy of the presentation unopened.

* * *

“Okay,” Hitchens says with a sigh.  “How about we break for lunch?”

“Good idea,” Lucy mumbles, glancing at the clock.  They’ve been at it for four hours already and are barely halfway through the proposal.  

“We’re going to need a bit more than an hour,” Davis says.  “Have to make a few calls to check on some of the numbers from this morning.  Reconvene at 15:00?”

The horde of lawyers across the table blinks at him, and Lucy sighs, but before she can say anything Alex speaks up for the first time since she gave an overview of the project.

“3:00.  He means 3:00.”

It settles the lawyers and chairs roll back from the table, the Paragon team heading out in en masse.  

“Lieutenant, go ahead to lunch,” Lucy says.  “I’ve got some calls of my own to make, I’ll find something.”  She fishes the keys out of her briefcase and hands them to him.

He pauses, mouth opening to ask a question, and she shakes her head, giving him a firm look, and he stays quiet, snapping his cover under his arm and striding out of the room.

“So,” Alex says slowly from her seat at the table.  “You’re back?”

“What the hell, Alex,” Lucy says tiredly.  “When did you move to Maryland?”

“Couple of years ago,” Alex says with a shrug.  “I needed a change, I’d been in Boston too long.  And to be fair, you don’t get to what-the-hell me, you know.  I didn’t show up at  _ your  _ office.”

“It’s not my fault your colleague dropped this on you,” Lucy says, leaning on the table and taking a slow breath.  “It’s good to see you, you know.”

“You too,” Alex says after a moment.  “You got promoted?”

Lucy waves a hand dismissively.  “Can we-- do you want to get lunch?”

“Don’t you have calls to make?”

“Psh, no,” Lucy says.  “I just didn’t feel explaining to Davis that we used to date.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at her.

“Not because-- no, I just-- need to figure out if I need to recuse myself from the final negotiations after today, is all.  And I don’t really feel like dealing with it right now.”

“There’s a Chinese place a few blocks away,” Alex says.  “How’s that?”

“Sounds perfect,” Lucy says with a smile.

* * *

“Okay, so,” Lucy says, breaking out her chopsticks with a flourish.  “Catch me up.  High level, what’s been going on the last few years?”

“I dunno,” Alex says.  “You remember Sonia, who ran the lab I worked at in MIT?  She retired a couple years back, and I didn’t really like any of the dipshits that the school wanted to admit into my program as candidates, so I left when she did.  She knew some people at Paragon, it got me an interview, and voila.  They offered me my own lab to run, and I took it, and I moved to Bethesda.”

“Your own lab?”  Lucy raises an eyebrow at her.  “That’s pretty impressive, right?”

“No,” Alex says flatly, but she flushes just barely, enough to prove Lucy right.  She steals a dumpling from Lucy’s plate and inspects it for a moment before settling it on her own with an audible breath.  “I got your letter.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, fiddling with her chopsticks.  “It looked like it took a while to get there, but I got it.  I wanted to write back, I just-- it had been a long time and I felt--”

“Awkward?”

“Oh God, so awkward,” Alex mumbles.  She sighs and slumps back in her chair.  “How did that happen to us?”

“We’re just people, you know,” Lucy says.  “And long distance anything is hard.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not upset about it,” Lucy says.  “For the record.  A little sad, because I never really stopped missing you, but I didn’t spend the last two years pining away for you or resenting you, either.”

“Way to boost a girl’s ego,” Alex drawls.  Lucy throws a packet of soy sauce at her.

“Well, you know,” Lucy says in a low voice.  “If you must know, all those nights alone, if I  _ was _ thinking of someone...it was definitely you.”

Alex chokes on her water.

“Dammit, Lucy,” she mutters, wiping at the water now on her sleeve.  Lucy sits back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.  “Still a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“Some things never change,” Lucy says.  “Like you and your affinity for dressing like a college student.  Does Paragon not have a dress code?”

“Hey,  _ someone _ told me many times that my legs look, and I quote,  _ delicious _ in these jeans,” Alex says.  “Why change something that works?”

“Uh huh,” Lucy says.  “So, are you--uh-- are you seeing anyone?”

“Me?” Alex looks up from wiping at her shirt long enough to snort audibly.  “No.  Kara keeps trying to sign me up for dating apps and crap like that, but I’m too lazy to date.”

“Right, lazy,” Lucy says.  “That’s how you wound up running a lab at the second largest publicly funded research institution in the country.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Alex says, tilting her head and smirking.

“Don’t use my favorite movie to try and distract me, Danvers,” Lucy says.  “But oh my God, I watched it again for the first time in ages last week and it is still  _ so perfect _ .”

“Uh huh,” Alex says as she rolls up her sleeves.

“Shut up,” Lucy mutters.  She pauses, watching Alex’s hands. “I’d forgotten how much I like your tattoos.”

Alex coughs and takes another drink from her water, her eyes focused somewhere just south of Lucy’s ear.  

“So, um,” she says.  “Are you living in DC, or just here for the contract thing?”

“Living here,” Lucy says.  “For now, at least.”

“For now?”

Lucy shrugs, abandoning her lunch.  “I’m out in six weeks.  Still don’t know what the plan is after that.”

“Oh,” Alex says.  “You’re not staying in?”

“No,” Lucy says with a shake of her head.  “I think I’m ready to give that whole not-Army thing a try again.  Maybe it’ll stick this time.”

“I see,” Alex says, nodding slowly.  “So, uh, do you want to get dinner with me, then?”

“Alex Danvers,” Lucy says.  She leans forward, elbows on the table and eyebrows raised.  “Are you asking me on a date?”

“It’s dinner,” Alex mumbles.  “It doesn’t have to be a date.”

“What if I want it to be a date?”

“Well, then you can pay for dinner,” Alex says with a wide grin.

“Deal,” Lucy says quickly.  “It’s a date.”  She glances at her watch and sighs quietly.  “We should get back.”

“So how is this going to work?  Are you going to keep working on the negotiations?”

“For today, yeah,” Lucy says with a shrug.  “These are technically preliminary, so they aren’t binding.  I’ll finish out the negotiations part and then hand the contracting piece over to Davis starting tomorrow.”

“Right,” Alex says.  She snatches the check up before Lucy can grab it, sliding her credit card into the envelope and handing it to the waiter.  “What are you going to do after you get out?”

“I don’t know yet,” Lucy says, glaring at Alex for stealing the check.  “Still working on that part.  I’m thinking about starting my own firm.”

“You could poach people from the asshole firms you hate,” Alex suggests.

“Tempting, if mostly illegal,” Lucy says.  Alex shrugs, scrawling her signature on the check.  

“Get creative?”

“I distinctly remember you being a more helpful presence in my life.”

“Maybe your brain got all addled over there in--”  Alex cuts herself off, her mouth snapping shut with a click.  “Wait, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I--”

“It’s okay,” Lucy says.  She stands from the table, straightening her uniform, and waits for Alex to stand as well.  “I know that’s not what you meant.”

“Were you, um, okay?  In Afghanistan?”

“I was never injured or even shot at, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lucy says quietly.  “I can tell you about it, but I’d rather not here.”

“Right,” Alex says.  She shoves her hands into her pockets, following Lucy out of the restaurant.  “Right.  Of course.  I’m sorry.”

“Alex,” Lucy says, hand curling around Alex’s forearm and pulling her to a stop.  “It’s okay.  Really.”

“Okay,” Alex says.  She glances down at Lucy’s hand on her arm, then back up at her.  “I did miss you.  A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

* * *

“I think we missed our reservation,” Lucy says, staring up at the ceiling of Alex’s apartment.

“Only by like three hours,” Alex mumbles.  She watches tiredly, head pillowed on her arms, as Lucy fumbles with the straps buckled over her hips.  The sweat on her skin is drying in the cool air of the bedroom and she grimaces, unsticking her cheek from her arm and flopping back down onto the pillow instead.

“So,” Alex says after a moment.  “We’ve still got all of that--” One hand swirls around in the air ineffectually.  “--Going for us, it seems.”

“Some things never change, right?”  Lucy rolls over onto her side, pillowing her head on one arm and meeting Alex’s gaze.  She reaches over after a moment, her fingers finding a spot on Alex’s elbow and tracing a neat four inches of surgical scarring that curves with the joint and dips down into the tattoo on her forearm.  “What happened?”

Alex rolls her eyes.  “If I tell you, you’re not allowed to say I told you so.”

“Oh my God, you crashed your bike, didn’t you?”

“Excuse you,  _ I _ didn’t crash anything, I was crashed into.”

“You weren’t wearing a helmet, either, were you?”

“I didn’t need it, clearly my head was fine!  The only real casualty was my bike, which didn’t survive at all.”

“Uh huh,” Lucy says.

“One accident in more than twenty years,” Alex says.  “I think I still get the benefit of the doubt.”

“Not even a little bit,” Lucy says.  “Do you at least wear a helmet now?”

Alex doesn’t say anything, and Lucy rolls her eyes.  “At least you’ve grown up enough to have an apartment with real walls.  I suppose we can work up to the helmet thing.”

“We?”

Lucy freezes, her fingers still on the scar.  Alex rolls over and sits up slowly, pulling the sheet with her, and pushes her hair out of her face.  Lucy does the same, uncertainty bowing her shoulders.

“Are we going to do this again?” Alex says after a moment.

“I-- do you want to?”

“Maybe,” Alex says.  “I think it depends on if you’re going to go back to the military again in a year or two.”

Lucy winces, but nods, exhaling slowly.  “That’s fair.”

“Are you?”

“No.”  Lucy straightens up, managing some semblance of an air of dignity even naked in Alex’s bed.  “Not this time.”

“How do you know?” Alex says.  “I’m not trying to be a jerk, I promise, I just--don’t want to fall into old habits if it’s going to play out the exact same way.”

Lucy takes a slow breath.  “I can’t have this conversation naked,” she mutters.  “Can I--”

“Go for it,” Alex says, waving her hand towards the dresser.  “Third drawer.”  

Lucy retrieves some sweatpants and a t-shirt, dressing swiftly and handing some to Alex as well.  

“You want a drink?”  Alex asks as she pulls on the shirt.  “I mean, if we can’t talk about it naked, we probably need a drink to talk about it.”

“Tea?”

“Tea,” Alex agrees.  She grabs Lucy’s hand and heads to the kitchen, Lucy following easily and settling at the kitchen table.  Alex moves easily around the kitchen, starting the kettle and retrieving mugs.  Lucy watches, chin propped in her hand, and waits quietly as the water boils.

Alex takes a seat across from her, settling the mugs in front of them.  Lucy accepts hers with a quiet thanks, taking a careful sip.

“I told you the other day that I don’t know what I want to do after I’m out,” she starts.  “That’s not a hundred percent true.  I have an idea of what I want to do, and I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to do it.”

“Okay,” Alex says.  “What is it?”

Lucy picks at her fingernails, her focus on her hands, and Alex waits, hands curled around her tea, until Lucy looks back up.

“What do you know about sexual assault in the military?”

“Lucy.” Alex’s knuckles go white with her grip on the tea, her jaw clenched and voice tight.  “Who--”

“I wasn’t-- no one did anything to me,” Lucy says.  “I promise.”  She reaches across the table with both hands and pulls at Alex’s wrists until she relaxes her grip on the mug.  “Nobody hurt me.”

“Okay.”  Alex lets out a slow breath. 

“It’s a very pervasive problem, though,” Lucy says.  Her fingers trace along Alex’s right arm, following the constellation inked into her skin.  “Being in the military increases your chances of being assaulted by almost 50%, and the military is paying lip service to handling it, but honestly, they’re not doing shit.  Most reports of harassment or assault are levied against someone the victim has to directly report to, and you’re more likely to get in trouble for  _ reporting _ it than the perpetrator is for having  _ done  _  it and --”

“Lucy,” Alex says, pulling her arm free so she can hold onto one of Lucy’s hands.  “What happened?”

Lucy takes a slow breath in, letting it out even more slowly.  “There was a kid in the company I was deployed with,” she says.  “Enlisted right out of high school, not the brightest, but she worked her ass off and was a good soldier, a good MP.  About ten weeks in, she came in and said she wanted to file a report against her CO, that he’d--”  

Lucy pauses, sucking in another breath.

“I helped her file the report.  An investigation was opened.  There was no way to keep it quiet, and people were-- not good to her.  She got shit shifts, no one wanted to be seen working with her.  Her CO encouraged it, and there was nothing I could do, or anyone could do, and she just got treated like trash because she’d reported him.”

“What happened to her?”

Lucy laughs, dry and unamused.  “She got out.  She didn’t want to continue with the investigation, she gave up.  The guy who assaulted her got a promotion, and she shot herself in the foot while on guard duty and took her dishonorable discharge and went home.”

“Jesus,” Alex mumbles.  “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“Oh, I know,” Lucy says.  “But I gave years of my life to the Army, and I had a responsibility to her and to everyone I worked with, and my hands were tied.  I couldn’t do shit about it.  The regulatory climate surrounding sexual assault in the Army, in the whole US military, is crap, and as someone working within that system, I became complicit with it.”

“Lucy, that’s not-- you’re not responsible for--”

“I don’t blame myself,” Lucy says, rubbing at her forehead.  “I know that I, specifically, didn’t fail her.  I didn’t attack her.  I tried to protect her, and I couldn’t because I didn’t have the tools to do anything about it.  So, that’s what I want to do when I’m out.”

“What?”

“I told you I might start my own firm, remember?” Lucy says. “I don’t want to really start a firm, or to practice, not technically, but I want to do  _ something _ to change the policy that lets things like this happen.”

“How do you even start doing that?”

“Hell if I know,” Lucy says, slumping back in her chair.  “But I’m going to figure out.  Dad’s still in, he’s not going anywhere until he retires, and hopefully he’ll help.  Lois can help on the media side, she just won another Pulitzer so she can do whatever she wants.”

“Okay,” Alex says.  “Okay.  So that’s what you’re going to do?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Alex says again.  “How can I help?”

“What?”

Alex rolls her eyes.  “C’mon, Lucy, what’d I say like ten minutes ago?  That I wasn’t going back into this with you unless I knew you weren’t going back into the military.  You are definitely not going back into the military, which means I’m in, which means I’ve got your back. Ipso facto, if you’re going to tackle the policy apparatus of the  _ entire US Army, _ I’m going to help if I can.”

“Oh,” Lucy says.  She squints at Alex.  “It’s still hot when you get all riled up, apparently.”

“I’m not riled up,” Alex says primly.  “Shut up and drink your tea.”

“Yes ma’am, Doctor Danvers.”  Lucy smirks over the rim of her mug.

Alex’s phone dings from the bedroom, and she stands to go get it, shooting a glare back when Lucy calls out “Saved by the bell!”

“Shut up,” Alex mutters as she reappears, tapping away at her phone.  “It’s just Kara.”

“Oh,” Lucy says, smiling brightly.  “Tell her I said hi!  What’s she doing these days?”

“Back working for Cat Grant,” Alex says sourly.

“What?   Why?  What happened to the blogging thing?”

“Oh, that went great.  So great, in fact, that Cat Grant hired her back as a journalist.”

“Really?  That’s awesome!”

Alex’s phone rings shrilly, and Alex rolls her eyes.  “Hey--”

“ _ I don’t want to talk to you, I want to talk to Lucy!”  _ Kara’s voice bursts out of the phone, making Alex wince and Lucy laugh.  Alex rolls her eyes and sets the phone on the table, putting it on speaker.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex says, gesturing to Lucy.

“Hey, Kara.”

“Lucy!  Oh my God, when did you get back?”

“A few months ago,” Lucy says.  “I ran into Alex earlier this week.”

“Alex, what the hell?  You didn’t tell me!”

“It literally just happened,” Alex says.

“You’re supposed to tell me these things!”

“To be fair, it really did just happen,” Lucy says.  “Though, yes, Alex, you’re supposed to tell her these things.”

“See?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you already tell  _ your _ sister?”

“My sister could care less,” Lucy says.  “Also, Kara is cooler than my sister.”

“See!”  Kara shouts over the phone.  “Okay, seriously, are you back for real?  Are you on leave?  Do you live in Bethesda too?  Are you still in the Army?”

“Yes, no, no, yes, but only for about another month,” Lucy says, ticking off the answers on her fingers.  “I was transferred back here last month, I’m not on leave and I am stationed here, I live in Annapolis right now, and I’m out in just under six weeks.”

“What about after that?  Are you staying in DC?”

“Still sorting that part out,” Lucy says.  “But yes, I think so.”

“Oh my God, are you guys back together for real?”

“Kara,” Alex says with a groan.

“I think we’re going to give it another shot,” Lucy says, propping her chin in her hand and smiling at Alex, who ducks her head and clears her throat.

“Oh my God!” Kara says again.  “This is so great, you were like the best person Alex ever dated.”

“Don’t tell Mom that,” Alex mutters.

“Oooh, yeah,” Kara says.  “Eliza’s gonna shit a brick.”

Lucy’s mouth turns down, and Alex reaches over and grabs her free hand.  

“Don’t worry about that, Kara,” Alex says, sliding her fingers between Lucy’s.  “I’ll handle her.”

“I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says.  Lucy slaps at her shoulder.  

“Be nice!”

“Kara,” Alex says loudly.  “How are things with the photographer guy?”

“Oooh,” Lucy says.  “What photographer guy?”

“Don’t try to change the subject on me, Alex!”

“Hey, it’s only fair,” Alex says.  “You poke into my love life, I poke into yours.”

“She’s got a point,” Lucy says.  “C’mon, tell me about him.  What’s his deal?”

Alex picks up the phone as Kara starts chattering excitedly about James, the new photographer she works with, and Alex pulls up a photo Kara had texted her and shows it to Lucy.

“Whoa, Kara,” Lucy says, snatching the phone out of Alex’s hand.  “He’s hot.  Like, really hot.”

“I know, right?  And he’s like, really nice, and smart, and crazy talented…”

Lucy keeps her hold on the phone, standing and pulling Alex with her as she moves to the couch.  She curls up into Alex’s side and pulls a blanket over them, talking enthusiastically with Kara the whole time. 


	10. Chapter 10

“For the record, this is still a terrible idea,” Alex says from her spot sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Your face is a terrible idea,” Lucy mumbles, stirring something in one pot and changing the burner heat for another one.  “It was a great idea until you bailed on helping me cook.”

“Hey, you’ve known for years that I can’t cook,” Alex says.  “Don’t blame me for this.”

Her phone rings, and she answers it while kicking out at Lucy’s ass and yanking her foot back before Lucy can slap at it.

“You guys here?” Alex says.  “Dad-- Dad, it’s 19th, not 18th, I told you-- no, it’s 19th north _ west _ \--”

Lucy smirks over her shoulder at Alex and sticks out of tongue.

“Give Mom the phone,” Alex grumbles.  “Hey, can you-- yes, that’s right, on 19th northwest.  Can you two geniuses manage that?”

“Be nice,” Lucy says, snapping a towel at her.

“They  _ are _ geniuses,” Alex says as she hangs up the phone.  “Geniuses who can’t use a GPS, apparently.  They’ll be late.”

A knock on the door sounds, followed by excited barking.

“Ten bucks says that’s my parents,” Lucy says.  “Because they can use a GPS.”

Alex scoffs  as she hops off the counter.  “No deal, I’m not losing money on my parents’ incompetence.”

The dog is jumping up on the front door by the time she makes it there, and Alex hauls him back by the collar so she can open it to see Kara and James.

“Oscar!” Kara shouts, diving into the house and tackling the gigantic dog.

“Sure, don’t mind me, I’m just your sister,” Alex mumbles.  She waves to James, letting out a sigh.

“You need a hand with all that?” She gestures to the suitcases in his hands.

“Nah, I got it,” he says with a smile.  He manages to step over Kara and Oscar, long legs carrying him into the foyer, and Alex shuts the door behind him.

“You lose the bet, it’s Kara and James,” Alex shouts towards the kitchen.  She kicks at Kara’s foot.  “Mom and Dad are going to be late.”  

Kara ignores her, sitting cross-legged on the floor with 115 pounds of white fluffy canine wiggling in her lap.  There’s another knock on the door, and Alex sighs again.  She points James down the hall to the guest room and turns back to the door, pushing a hand through her hair as she dodges Kara and Oscar again.

Lucy’s parents are on the other side of the door, and her mom bounces in just like Kara, except she actually hugs Alex instead of the dog.  “Hey!”

“Hi, Amal,” Alex says, allowing herself to be hugged tightly and waving at General Lane, who grins and holds up an unopened bottle of scotch.  

“Oh, bless you,” Alex mumbles at him as she’s finally released and Amal moves on to Kara.  Next to him is Lois, who waves as well and follows him into the building.  “Lois, hey, the idiot on the floor is Kara, she’d love to talk to you about work.”

“Oh my God,” Kara squeaks out, scrambling to stand up from under Oscar.  “You’re Lois Lane!  You won a Pulitzer!  Twice!”

“I think here I’m just Lucy’s sister,” Lois says with a grin, shaking her hand regardless.  Kara mumbles out something about her work and Alex elbows her in the side.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Alex has told me about you.”

Kara flushes violently red, still holding onto Lois’s hand, and Alex clears her throat loudly.

“It’s a bit crowded in here, don’t you think?” Alex says.  “Why don’t we, you know, not stand in the hallway.”  She gestures to the living room, shooing Lois and Kara to a couch and accepting the scotch from Lucy’s dad.  “I’m going to go get some glasses for this.”

Alex disappears into the kitchen, where Lucy is shutting the oven with her foot and leaning against the counter tiredly.  

“You okay?” Alex hooks a finger in one of her beltloops and pulls until she steps forward and leans against Alex.

“Yeah, just tired,” Lucy mumbles.  “Why did we think Thanksgiving was a good idea?”

“Oh, we didn’t,” Alex says.  “Your mother volunteered us.”

“Why didn’t we stop her?”

“We tried.  We failed.  Your mom is scarier than your dad.”

“Dad isn’t scary at all.”  Lucy yawns and tucks her chin into Alex’s shoulder.  “He thinks you’re the coolest.”

“He does not, I’m pretty sure he’s still always prepared to call an airstrike in on me.”

“Six months ago he tried to hire you.  To run DARPA.”

Alex scoffs, poking at Lucy until she can pull free, pointing her towards one of the barstools at the counter.  “Sit.  I’ll make coffee.”

“You’re the greatest,” Lucy says with a yawn.  “We’re never doing this again right?  Or if we do can we cater it?”

“Hey, I suggested that,” Alex says, pointing at Lucy with a coffee filter.  “Since I’m banned from the kitchen.”

“You set the oven on fire.  On my birthday.”

“It’s the thought that counts, and the thought was that I was going to make you dinner.  And I am excellent at taking instructions, you know that.”

“Yeah, you are,” Lucy says with a smirk.  “Especially when I--”

Alex clears her throat loudly, looking past Lucy to where Lucy’s mom is standing.

“There you are,” she says, hugging Lucy from behind.

“Hey, Mom.” Lucy leans back into her, stifling a yawn.  “How was the flight?”

“The worst,” Amal says, sighing dramatically.  “Beirut is such a pain, I  _ have _ to get your grandparents to move somewhere nice and quiet.  I’m too old to keep flying out there all the time., especially on the holidays.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re going to say that they’re too old to move,” Lucy says.  “But have at it.”

“They’ll listen, I’m the favorite,” Amal says, flicking her hair.  Alex snorts as she hands Lucy a cup of coffee.  “You look exhausted, are you sleeping enough?”

“Nope,” Alex says before Lucy can answer.  “Can you get her to work more reasonable hours.”

“Oh, no, sweetie, that’s your job,” Amal says.  “My job is just to call her out on it.”

“Both of you be quiet,” Lucy mutters into her coffee.  “I’m going to see Dad.  Who doesn’t pick on me.”

She flounces off into the living room with a huff, followed by laughter from both Alex and Amal, and squeezes down on the couch between Lois and her dad.  Another knock sounds on the door, and Lucy groans and drops her forehead onto Lois’s shoulder.

“I got it,” James says helpfully, extracting his feet from under Oscar.

“I knew I liked you,” Lucy says, slumping down into the couch even further.

James reappears with Eliza and Jeremiah, and Kara bounces off the couch to hug them.

“Sorry we’re late,” Eliza says from inside Kara’s hug.  “Jeremiah can’t read a map.”

“But I made pie, so that makes up for it, right?”  He holds out a pie and grins widely.

“Well, at least one person here is pulling their weight besides me,” Lucy says.  She takes the pie from him and accepts a hug, first from him and then from Eliza, before disappearing back into the kitchen.  “Your folks are here,” she informs Alex as she deposits the pie in the fridge.

“Ooh, Eliza,” Amal says, darting from her seat and into the living room.

Lucy sighs, and Alex grabs at her shoulder from her spot sitting on the counter, pulling her over until she’s standing between Alex’s knees.

“It’s all good,” Alex says.  “We got this.”

Lucy groans tiredly.

“Hey,” Alex says.  She nudges at Lucy’s chin until she stands up straighter, meeting Alex’s eyes.  “Only Kara and James are staying, everyone else is in a hotel by 7:00 tonight.  And then everyone else is going home on Saturday, and we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

“Finally,” Lucy mutters.  “We haven’t had a break since we moved in.”

“But we will,” Alex says, flicking at her ear.  “Because no one else is visiting us until at least my birthday, I swear to God.”

“Good.”

“So,” Alex says.  “No pants weekend, yeah?”

“I have to go into the office--”

Alex cuts her off, leaning down to kiss her.  “Nope,” she says.  “It’s Thanksgiving, and it’s a stupid holiday, but I’m not working, and you’re not working, and as soon as Kara and James are out of here Saturday you and I are crashing and not wearing pants until we absolutely have to.”

“Okay,” Lucy says.  “Okay.  No pants weekend.  Check.”

Alex hooks her legs around Lucy’s abdomen, pulling her closer.  

“And no more telling on me to my mother about how much I work,” Lucy says suddenly.  “Or I tell Eliza you still don’t wear a helmet.”

“Mutually assured destruction?  That’s how you want to play this?  What if I tell Amal you bought a  _ motorcycle _ ?”

“You’ve known me for eight years and you really want to try and act surprised about this?  My motorcycle is nothing compared to you careening through traffic without a helmet because I actually  _ wear _ a helmet.”

Alex sighs dramatically.  “Very well.  I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“You guys are like disgustingly cute,” Lois says, appearing in the kitchen. “Come on, stop hiding, Dad’s already in his mood to give toasts.”

Lucy groans, turning around to glare at Lois and slumping back against Alex.

“Chop chop, little sister.” Lois grins at them and snaps her fingers.  “Bring your lady, I’m not suffering through this alone.”

“You hear that?” Alex says as she lets Lucy pull her off the counter.  “I’m a  _ lady _ .”

“You’re something, alright,” Lucy mutters.  She stops just shy of turning the corner into the living room and pushes up on her toes to kiss Alex.  “I l--”

“No romantic soldier nonsense,” Alex says sternly, though her smile counters it, and Lucy rolls her eyes.  “I love you too, nerd.”

“Hell yeah, you do,” Lucy says, kissing her again.  She pivots on her heel and pulls Alex into the living room, their fingers neatly intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casual reminder at the end here that [smallandsundry](http://smallandsundry.tumblr.com) drew this [truly most excellent picture of bike messenger alex danvers](http://smallandsundry.tumblr.com/post/142489015590/also-have-a-hipster-bike-messenger-alex-danvers) and you should go stare at it a lot.


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